


Scarlet; Lounge; Candlestick

by viktuuriousred



Series: Clue AU [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Alpha Victor Nikiforov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Clue, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Katsuki Yuuri, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Married Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Masquerade Ball, Minor Character Death, Murder Mystery, Omega Katsuki Yuuri, References to Clue | Cluedo, Top Victor Nikiforov, Yuuri in a red dress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-11-01 07:37:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 68,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10917300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viktuuriousred/pseuds/viktuuriousred
Summary: (CLUE AU) Yakov Feltsman has been murdered! As his houseguests try to solve the case as suspects themselves, they discover no one can be trusted. Could Yuuri, the sweet, seductive, mysterious newlywed really have anything to do with such a crime? He will risk everything to prove he isn't the killer, and that one of his friends— Mr. Giacometti, Mr. Plisetsky, Mr. Leroy, Professor Popovich, or even his darling Viktor— is the one with blood on their hands.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been working on this for A G E S  
> and I'm so happy to finally share the prologue with you guys! I'll edit if and when I can, so please please please let me know what you think!!
> 
> I plan on updating biweekly, sometimes sooner depending on my schedule.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm cleaning up this story, adding a thing or two here and there! Will continue to update throughout the weekend!

 

 

Prologue

 

Six weapons are laid out in front of six individuals. Before them is a map of the mansion they are inside on a large piece of paper, in which six rooms are circled. "One of you fuckers did this." Says the man in front of the group, hands bloodstained and face looking terrifyingly wicked. "You'll be tried and sentenced to death for killing such an important man, did you realize that yesterday when you did it?"

"Go to hell," the boy in the direct center clad in a pure white suit already has tears forming in his eyes. "You have no solid evidence. How would you possibly know who did it?"

At this, the interrogator gives him a cruel smile. He takes several steps— to the end of the row, where a very, very pale young man has been clinging onto his spouse. His lips are moving as if he's praying, but when he sees the interrogator, he hides his face in the taller man.

The detective looks taller man up and down, successfully filling everyone with dread. "You thought I wouldn't find out? You're not that clever, Nikiforov."

Viktor Nikiforov's mouth hangs open in shock as he takes a moment to process what was said. "What— I'm innocent! I– how dare you assume!" He hasn't stepped out of line yet, but he keeps eyeing the table and the interrogator can see him mentally selecting a weapon; meanwhile his spouse hasn't stopped crying nor hugging his arm in desperation. "Please, please, please don't, he.. he's innocent, please don't do this, please-"

They're both incredibly wealthy aristocrats and handsome in their own ways, young, lovable newlyweds whom none would have suspected had anything to do with the murder of Yakov Feltsman the night before.

The interrogator turns to the weapons table for a moment, peering over his options; a revolver, a lead pipe, a knife, a rope, a wrench and... a candlestick. He selects the last one, then returns to Viktor Nikiforov. "Can you imagine being cruel enough and skilled enough to kill a man with a goddamn candlestick?"

"I– I didn't..." Viktor shakes his head, struggling to form words, "I didn't have that weapon last night, and you know that."

"I do know that, you're right." The man nods, standing in front of the weeping spouse. The scarlet gown he'd worn for the gala the night before has been torn nearly to shreds below his knees, and it too is bloodstained. "But your whore? I think he knows exactly what I'm talking about." He waves the candlestick in front of the crying young man's stricken face.

"Oh come on, leave him alone!" Another man further down the line; purple suit, dark hair and light eyes— previously the prime suspect—, is now crying as well. "He would never..."

"The evidence was clear as day. The police have already been called, and I have prepared the official accusation."

"God damn you!" Viktor shouts, but he shows no emotion in his face. No tears, no fear...

The scarlet man sinks to his knees, burying his face in them as the remaining four remain silent and somber.

"God damn you, Chulanont! What did you do to him?!"

"Shut up, Nikiforov!" The interrogator snaps, turning his attention back to the kneeling suspect. "You're crying now because you know your guilt will cost you your life," he crouches in front of him. "Here is what I propose; our little Ms. Scarlett killed Yakov Feltsman in the lounge with a candlestick."

A collective gasp of surprise is the only sound in the room before the confusion breaks out.

The interrogator closes his fingers around the young man's pale throat, drenched in sweat. "Such a pretty neck... it's a shame, really." The young man gulped, struggling to free himself from the unbreakable grip. "You will be hung by tomorrow, make no mistake." He strikes the scarlet man across the face, causing another round of protest from the guests. But he doesn't stop, and no one has stopped him yet. "Any last words, Scarlett?"

'Scarlett' opens his mouth to speak, but he is unable to get a word out before gunshots ring through the air......

and one person drops to the ground.

* * *

_ One week and five days previously. _

**The Nikiforov Mansion**

**Tuesday, May 9th, 1922**

**New York State**

The warm spring air feels good on Yuuri's skin; it reminds him of how long he's been staying indoors as of recent and that he needed to find a way to get out more. But the people didn't like him in the small seaside town he had resided in for the past two years. They whispered names behind hands and blatantly ignored the poor young man whenever he dared to go into town without his husband of two years; the lovable, wonderful, eccentric millionaire Viktor Nikiforov.

It was truly a tragedy that they ended up together, according to the public’s opinion. But Yuuri found it to be nothing short of a blessing. 

"Shall I bring the car around, sir?" Yuuri is accompanied today by a young servant named Kenjiro Minami; his sole job being to protect Yuuri and make sure he didn't get lost, which is hardly a plausible idea. Yuuri has snuck off unaccompanied into town countless times before, but Viktor really doesn’t like when he does. 

"I just need to run into the bookstore, then I'll be out. Thank you." Yuuri has such a charming smile, one that makes even the cruelest of people stop for a moment to gaze upon him. How could someone as sweet and innocent as Yuuri Nikiforov be hated by so many?

"Yes, sir," Minami nods, turning away and disappearing down the road. Yuuri clutches a paper shopping bag close to his chest, the one filled with a few pastries from the bakery nextdoor. His stomach churns in fatigue as he waits a few more moments. The bookstore is always his most difficult strife.

Exhaling, Yuuri pushes open the door, listening to the familiar bell ding behind him. The clerk looks up, smiling at him in recognition. "Any babies yet?"

That question was the sole reason Yuuri dreaded entering the store. It’s not like Yuuko Nishigori ever asked such a personal question to any of her other customers, either, just Yuuri. Not only would she ask that, but she’d always mention what a pity it was that Yuuri and Viktor lived in that large, old house all alone and ended up offering Yuuri to borrow her children.

"No? Well, what's taking so long, Yuuri? It's been two years! I want some baby cheeks to pinch!" Yuuko was the wife of the late store owner, Takeshi Nishigori, but he tragically passed away during the Great War four years previously and left his wife widowed with three young children. Since then, she'd remarried to someone far less… pleasant… who seldom ever leaves his bedroom and when he does, it's just to go to the bar. Viktor often mentions seeing him in New York City, drunk off his ass, and usually offers him a ride home. Yuuri wishes he wouldn’t. 

"It's not as if we aren't trying," Yuuri says shyly, face hidden in a book, "it just hasn't happened yet."

"Well, I'm sure your husband is just as impatient as I am! Perhaps you should see a doctor about—"

"I'm fine, thank you," he says briskly, disappearing behind one of the shelves.  _ This is why I shouldn't come here _ , he thinks,  _ I’ll always be an embarrassing disappointment for her. _

It is no secret that Viktor and Yuuri Nikiforov want children of their own, but the reasons as to why they do not have been swept under the rug by Yuuri for the sake of privacy and the need to upkeep an image.

One of the issues with Yuuri is that he's been married four times in six years and no decent person wants anything to do with him because of this. They believe he has killed all his previous spouses for their money and Viktor is next on his hit-list, which is why it is hoped that perhaps if Yuuri became with child, he'd spare Viktor's life (and other preposterous rumors).

What no one knows is that Yuuri left his previous spouse for Viktor and plans on staying with him permanently. He is terrified of Viktor growing tired of him and leaving him for another, more suitable mate. So, Yuuri puts on a strong, mysterious front and tries to appear like he doesn't have a care in the world in order to protect himself. Thus far, it's done somewhat well.

Yuuri sets a few books down on the counter, face flushed from the heat of his humiliation, "Please put this on his charge. That'll be all for today."

"Alright, Yuuri. But next time I better hear news of a child! See you soon!"

Yuuri smiles until he's certain she can't see him anymore. He slams the door to the car and sits in the back, fighting back tears. If only she knew how hard he  _ is  _ trying.

***

"Welcome home, Master Yuuri," the lead maid of his home, Lilia, is holding a stack of mail as she meets the young man at the door, "these arrived while you were out."

"Thank you." Yuuri took the stack, walking aimlessly towards the stairs, "I'm going to my room. I don't wish to be bothered." It isn't hard to tell that he'd been crying on the ride home, judging by the fact that he left everything in the car and the puffiness of his eyes. "Well, when Viktor arrives, he's allowed in... were there any calls while I was out?" He adds, starting to go up the marble steps.

"One from a Mr. Yakov Feltsman regarding some legal application, I believe? He's been waiting upstairs, sir."

At this, Yuuri practically bolts up the steps, slamming his door shut behind him.

.

“What are you willing to do just to bring in a child with no blood relation to you?” The old, stiff judge sits across from Yuuri in Yuuri’s library, puffing a foul-smelling cigar.

“Anything, Mr. Feltsman.” Yuuri says, head bowed. “I don’t think it’s safe for me to have children.”

“And why’s that? You know, many women risk their lives to give their husbands heirs. Why wouldn’t you want to do the same for Vitya?” Mr. Feltsman stands, looking out the window at the garden, where several servants are on their break. “You said you’d give anything.”

In a hurried voice, Yuuri quickly recalls a morning last spring that only the lead maid and Kenjiro Minami had previously known of and the reason for a particular breed of flowers in the back garden. His face is burning. “I never told Viktor, out of shame. He was away on business, and when he came back I told him I had a cold so he wouldn’t suspect anything.”

“Maybe you’re trying too often,” Mr. Feltsman suggests. “People of your breed must be taken care of quite delicately during your childrearing years.” 

“Maybe I just can’t have children!” Yuuri stands, and counting the heels he wears, is eye-to-eye with him. “Maybe you’re just declining our application because you want me to die. Which is funny, because I know you’re attracted to me.” Yuuri can feel his eyes filling with tears at Mr. Feltsman’s stoic expression.

“The reason you’re declined has technical terms, too many for a simple-minded young beauty like yourself to understand. But it’s your fault, I promise.” Yakov leaned in, pushing his cigar into Yuuri’s mouth. “Maybe if you were a bit more willing, we could’ve worked something out.”

Turning his head to the side in defiance, Yuuri spit out the cigar. It dropped onto the rug, and Yakov crushed it with his boot with a chuckle. “Defiant. Unbelievably seductive with your beauty. And barren. You can decide which of those traits is your punishment for being such a whore, Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s mouth hung open as the first round of tears finally spill over.

.

The Nikiforov Mansion is the crowned jewel of the family itself, going back two full centuries.

Firstborns for generations have been privileged enough to call the place their forever home, while their siblings turn green with envy and plot ways to get it for themselves.

And it typically wasn't so much the house itself as the prestige, wealth, and servants that came with it.

Viktor Nikiforov might have been the only Nikiforov ever to dread owning the home once his parents died. At the time of taking ownership, he was unmarried and uninterested in it; orphaned and without a single family member in his area. He went away to university and eventually the military, and let the home be for almost a decade, until one sunny day in early April when the much older Viktor Nikiforov carried a stranger inside bridal-style and declared the place their new home.

That stranger was Yuuri Katsuki, and Viktor is helplessly in love with him. He loves him because of how simple he is, how he doesn't pine for his fortune. He's just someone who needed peace and quiet. Someone who wanted a family of his own and a husband who actually loved and cared for him.

Viktor promised all of that and more, if only he'd have him. No arrangements, just a straightforward, honest marriage proposal barely two days after Yuuri's late husband, Master Altin, had passed away. He accepted, and the young lovers ran away together, claiming refuge in the last place anyone would expect to find Yuuri.

The couple had decided even before the marriage that they wanted a big family for themselves, for they both loved children and considered themselves good with them.

Two years later though, the halls of the house are still empty, and it was wondered if that dream ever would come true.

Personal advisors suggested to Viktor that he have an affair with some nobody so that there would be an heir to the fortune and the home, but he always refuted this. "Yuuri wants children too." He'd say.

Affairs were still rumored to happen. People justified Viktor's alleged actions with the fact that Yuuri had been married three times before him and cheated on his third husband just to get to Viktor. He was considered waste, unworthy of the Nikiforov name. "He's just going to take your money and run someday, Nikiforov," they'd say.

And the pressure grew so strong that Viktor was forced to “consider” the idea of quietly divorcing Yuuri by the end of the second year of their marriage. Yet, every time he saw that wickedly innocent smile, his knees buckled from under him.

They'd just have to keep waiting on babies. An adoption center had to accept them at some point, right? And even if they never had any children, Viktor had decided long ago that that would not determine his love for Yuuri.

"Yuuri, I'm home..." Viktor used to sound so cheerful when he came home from a long day at his father's old office, but recently his tone became less and less enthusiastic. It wasn't an important announcement, after all. Of course he'd be home. Where else would he go?

When he isn't greeted in return, though, Viktor's expression changes. "Yuuri?" The house is quiet; the only signs of life being the servants passing through every now and then as they finish preparations for dinner.

Silence.

Viktor frowns, removing his trench coat and leaving it on a table for the servants to pick up. He finds a pile of books stacked there and a bag of pastries on top that were definitely bought by Yuuri earlier on in the day. He took everything piled there and made sure to take his time going up the steps towards Yuuri's quarters in hopes Yuuri may respond at some point. He does not.

With a sigh, he turns the corner towards Yuuri's bedroom to find one of his personal servants sitting outside the door as if he is waiting for someone.

"You, what are you standing there for? Where's Yuuri?" It's a young boy, perhaps no older than Viktor's young cousin Yura. He doesn't quite remember his name.

"I- I was waiting for you, Master Nikiforov," he stammers, "Master Yuuri is ill. He went into town this morning to run some errands and came back rather distraught. He won't see anyone." The servant boy quickly takes the items from Viktor with promises to put them away.

Viktor rests his palm on the door handle. "Any idea why he wouldn't have told me?"

"No, sir," the boy replies. "Shall I have his dinner sent up to him?"

"That won't be necessary. We're having guests tonight, and Yuuri has to attend."

"Yes, sir."

"You're dismissed." Viktor says pointedly.

When the boy is gone, Viktor clicks the door open, squinting in the sudden darkness engulfing the bedroom. His eyes search the room for Yuuri, and he finds him resting on the window seat, staring stubbornly out at the back lawn. He's redecorated the room a bit since the last time Viktor had been in. All the drapes and blankets are crimson in color, as well as the carpets and picture frames. The bed is unmade and an untouched plate rests on the auburn nightstand beside it. Yuuri's been in here for a while.

"Dearest..." he closes the door, hesitating to walk over to Yuuri until he sees the fresh tears trickling down his cheeks. After that, he's across the room in seconds to comfort him.

Yuuri didn't take long to melt into his husband's arms, wrapping his arms around his neck. He buries his face in Viktor's shoulder and continues to cry softly.

"Yuuri, love, tell me what's troubling you?" Viktor rubs circles into his exposed back, chest feeling numb from the anxiousness that came from this unusual behavior.

Yuuri clings to him, frustrated tears dampening his shirt, "Yakov Feltsman i-is a wicked man..."

And for a moment, Viktor wants to kill his old mentor on that statement alone. How dare he hurt Yuuri! Yuuri didn't deserve... "What happened with Mr. Feltsman, darling?" Viktor strokes his dark hair, pressing a kiss to his temple.

Yuuri takes a few slow breaths to calm himself enough to speak, "He denied it again..and he… oh, he..." He squeezed his eyes shut, trembling, "I'm so sorry, Viktor!"

Viktor wants to be sad. He wants to cry along with him. But he can't. Not here, not now. "No. That's unacceptable. If he's going to say no, the least he can do is give a good reason why. I'll call his office in the morning and get this whole thing sorted out, okay?"

"But what if he still says no?"

"Well, then I guess we take matters into our own hands, right?" He gives Yuuri a knowing smirk.

Yuuri's lips curl into a smile as he presses a kiss to his nose. "Exactly."

Viktor cups his cheeks, laying several soft kisses on his lips. "I saw you brought home some new things. What did you go to town for?"

At this, Yuuri averts his eyes. "N-Nothing."

"You don't just travel into town by yourself for nothing, love."

Yuuri bites his lip, then pinches them together. "I wanted to go outside. I was bored, so I went out and got fitted for a new outfit and bought a few books. I put it on your charge..."

"And you're okay?" Viktor brushes the matted hair away from his husband's face, looking for a smile or a nod to confirm this. Yuuri's only twenty four. He's too young to be so sad all the time like this.

"Yes, I'm alright," he smiles, "nothing to worry about. I'm fine."

"Wonderful." Their lips meet briefly, not long enough for Yuuri's taste. He's always left wanting more than he's given. "Professor Popovich, Chris, and my cousin are coming over for dinner. I hope you'll join us."

"I'll need a bath or a good dousing in perfume." Yuuri says sheepishly, "But I will. After we finish up, of course." He smirks, yanking Viktor by the tie overtop of him. Yuuri's kisses are intoxicating, addictive, killing... it's no wonder Viktor was seduced so quickly. Every kiss leaves him begging for another.

"Yuuri, is now really the right time?" But of course; how could he say no? Why would he? They are married, they have another hour until their guests arrive...

Yuuri effortlessly glides his hand under the seam of Viktor's slacks, leaning forward to reach more. He kisses down Viktor's neck to both distract and please him while his hand begins to stroke his new erection. "I've caused you trouble today, Viktor, s-so… let me make it up to you?"

"Damn it, you're such a fucking seductress, aren’t you? How can I say no?" Viktor can't unbuckle his slacks fast enough for Yuuri's hand. He pushes him back onto the large bed, then yanks the bed curtains closed around them. They're engulfed in a reddish glow, like a tent by a fire— always one of Viktor's favorite colors when in Yuuri's quarters.

Yuuri licks his lips teasingly, bowing his head to Viktor's crotch. He's silent, focused on his work. Yuuri slips Viktor's hard cock from his smallclothes, brushing his scarlet lips against the tip. It twitches in response, and he smiles up at his husband.

"Your eros is unmatched, Yuuri Nikiforov," Viktor groans.

Yuuri knows this. He flicks his tongue over the tip, then slides the length of Viktor's dick down his throat. His face is red from the strain, but he never falters. His tongue continues circling, and he begins massaging Viktor's inner thighs, pulling himself closer. He’s had a lot of practice doing this, but ever since they married, Viktor sometimes feels a twinge of jealousy when thinking that he is not the first man that Yuuri has done this for.

"God damn it.." Viktor winces, shoving Yuuri onto his back. He lifts the silk robe covering him and slides himself into Yuuri's slick entrance.

Yuuri's moans intertwine with Viktor's as they move with each other, hips rolling as they attempt to please the other. He digs his fingers into Viktor's back, stifling a cry in his shoulder.

_ With how often we do this, and how often he's technically been able _ , Viktor thinks,  _ we should have children by now _ .  _ And since we can't, it's Yakov's fault for not allowing us to adopt. I'll slit his throat if he doesn't fix this, I swear to God I will. _

***

Once Yuuri is sure Viktor isn't coming back to his bedroom and really is entertaining guests, he slips out of bed and slowly walks to his bathroom to draw the bath water. His legs feel quite tingly.

He eases himself into the tub, dipping his head underwater briefly to dampen his knotted hair. He's sore, a little bit sleepy, but mostly euphoric. He enjoys every last encounter with Viktor, partly because he's the only sexual partner he's ever had that could please him.

He loves Viktor for far more reasons than that, though, and sometimes he wishes that Viktor would spend more time with him outside of their sexual endeavors. 

Yuuri uses the expensive soaps from France he was given on his birthday a few months previously and tries to scrub every inch of himself to rid of the previous smell. What kind of impression might it make if he goes downstairs smelling so strongly of his husband? Then, he drags a comb through his hair until it's presentable and back to its old self. It just about touches his shoulders now, and he's beginning to wonder if he wants it cut back to its former length. There isn't time anyway. He pins it behind him and goes to his closet to find something presentable to wear.

Pushing aside the dusty cradle that's been eerily sitting there since he moved in, Yuuri searches through his clothes until he finds what he's looking for; plain black slacks and a white button up shirt. He ignores the long since abandoned pile of letters stacked in the corner, but a line from a letter his sister sent some time ago flickers across his memory:

_ 'We haven't heard from you in a while; has the baby been born yet? We can't wait to meet them!' _

That baby never came to be.

Yuuri quickly wipes his eyes, exiting the closet to wander over to his powder room to finish the look.  _ That was two years ago. I'm not the same person I was. _

Touched up red lips and eyeliner are the only difference to his facial appearance, but he looks and feels a whole lot better than he did earlier. It was this exact color that got Viktor to notice him two and a half years ago, not long before they ran off together and got married. It'd been a whirlwind romance back then too, a lift from the awful life of arranged marriages Yuuri had been stuck in for a few years.

Once his late husband, Master Altin, father of nine, passed away, Yuuri took what money was his and never looked back once.

He was thrilled to leave his old life, mostly because he'd been younger than a few of his husband's children and it was a pointless, unsatisfying and awkward marriage.

But Viktor? Viktor was so much different. Young and charming, he'd won Yuuri's heart almost instantly and promised him the world. He didn't disappoint.

Giving himself a final glance in the mirror, he decides he's ready to go downstairs and socialize.

He's late.

The guests are confirmed of thinking he's just mysterious and too busy seducing Viktor to pay mind to anyone else or show up on time, and he wishes more than anything that was always the case.

When a maid notices Yuuri Nikiforov stepping down the stairs in his most confident of strides, she's certain she's seen a ghost. But it's real, and it must be a miracle. He's been so upset recently.

"Where is everyone eating?" Yuuri asks without stopping. He's wearing a smile, and his hair is combed back nicely. His glasses are nowhere to be found.

"Out on the veranda, sir," she says softly.

"Thank you." He brushes past the maid and begins the long walk out to the veranda. His footsteps echo off the walls, reminding him that Nikiforov mansion was far too large for two people to live in alone. It would be so much better to at least have guests over more often to distract himself from that fact.

Maybe someday though, and perhaps soon, they could...

"Y-Yuuri...?" The four men sitting around a table on the veranda are surprised, to say the least, to see Yuuri appearing so confident to be there when he approaches them.

Viktor's face lights up like the sky as he quickly pulls up a chair for him. "Come sit with us? We were just talking about you."

"I can't decide if that's a good thing," Right, Yuuri had to put on a show. Out here, he's flirtatious and bubbly and easily can become the center of attention. Inside, it's not so easy.

"Oh it is," one of the men at the table can be recognized as Georgi Popovich, a professor of psychiatry who's been of Viktor's acquaintance since childhood. He frequently visited the mansion to share business, but he tended to be rather nervous and quiet ever since a certain scandalous rumor came out about him and one of his female associates. "We were going to invite you and Viktor both to a special masquerade being held at Mr. Feltsman's mansion next week."

"What's the occasion?" Yuuri sips from his freshly poured wine glass to calm his nerves. He knows it'll be rude to turn down this invitation now. But having to be in the same room as the man who just crushed his dreams? He would kill him.

"It's a retirement party for Feltsman. Everyone will be there," The professor explains, turning back to Viktor, "including Leroy, but he'll just fluff himself up like a peacock as always, won't he? I can't stand the man."

Ah yes, Jean-Jacques Leroy lives a few houses down from them and the bitter, silent war between he and Viktor never failed to keep Yuuri entertained.

"Now now, Popovich, do calm yourself." another man at the table, Christophe Giacometti— retired military hero of his country and Viktor's closest business partner— gives Yuuri a teasing glance. "We wouldn't want Ms. Scarlet here knowing too much business." He says, alluding to the color of Yuuri's lips.

"I'm perfectly capable of sitting in on business," Yuuri corrects him, "and that's not my name not my title, so I shouldn't be addressed by it."

"You've caught yourself a feisty one, Viktor," Christophe chuckles as if Yuuri's response was one of a child's.

"I'm practically green with envy that he can use that talk on you and I can't." Viktor responds and hooks his ankle around Yuuri's under the table. "But enough business talk. Let's eat!"

The cooks have prepared a light meal for the evening; a stew of sorts— roast, potatoes, beans and carrots— something simple that probably didn't fit the guests they were having. When the lead cook asked Yuuri what he wanted for supper that morning, he'd selected it with the belief he'd be dining alone in his sitting room, not surrounded by Viktor's friends.

"So.." the previously quiet Yuri Plisetsky— a pale, thin youngster who was Viktor's spoiled little cousin and as of recent solely called Yura— finally cuts in, "What's everyone wearing to the masquerade? I want to see who I can laugh at."

"You should go back to university and learn some manners, cousin," Viktor chides, emptying yet another wine glass, "I was thinking of my green suit with a decorated mask."

"You'll look like a tree." The boy replies. Yuuri can't help but giggle at this, because it's probably true.

"Anything looks like a tree when you're the height of a troll," Professor Popovich adds. "I'll be wearing a purple number to match my date. I bought it on Viktor and I's last trip to London, and it's really striking."

"In that case, I'll have to wear a golden suit to show you up!" Chris declares. "What about you, Yuuri? Are you coming?"

"Well, I can't let Viktor go alone, can I?" Yuuri blows on his spoon to cool the stew; it's boiling. He finds every man at the table (save for Yura) staring at his lips. "What? It's too hot."

"Ahh.. y-yes..." Giacometti looks away, meeting eyes with one of the servants. "You. Bring me a cigar! I'm not hungry at the moment."

Yuuri's stomach is churning as well, and it could be solely because of the eyes burning holes into him. He's always been nervous about what people think of him, and...

"Darling, why don't you tell Yura and Professor Popovich about our holiday to Barcelona? I need to speak with Chris for a moment." Viktor and Chris' eyes met across the table; something of a silent understanding of each other. Yuuri wants to follow the men, try to listen in on their conversation. But if he really wants to find out, he just has to ask a servant. They always listen in when they aren't supposed to.

He asks one for a cigarette and lights it shakily, pushing it to his lips. "I wish he wasn't so secretive with Chris."

"What, you don't trust them?" Professor Popovich is the only one who's finished his stew and he's asking for seconds.

"I just know that my husband gets into all sorts of trouble with that man. And I don't like secrets." Yuuri takes another puff from the cigarette, slipping it in between his fingers. "Viktor and Mr. Feltsman haven't been getting along well recently, and after what happened today, I'm worried there will be an issue at the party."

"You don't think he'd do any harm to Feltsman, do you? That'd finish him as a businessman." Yura is finally eating. He doesn't like it very much. "Is he stupid enough to do that?"

Yuuri shrugs. "Anyone who upsets me is on some imaginary death list for Viktor. He's put me before his business, and I know that wasn't the right thing to do."

Professor Popovich doesn't know what to say to this. He quietly finishes off his second bowl, sitting with the thought of Viktor murdering a man in cold blood just to avenge Yuuri's hurt feelings.

"So, what are you wearing, to the masquerade then?" Yura has an intimidating stare that may have frightened him had it not been for the fact he was only eighteen. He hates Yuuri, and it's no secret.

"Oh, I'm not sure if I'm going yet.." Yuuri answers, scraping at the last of his dinner.

"Ah, because you're too busy for that, staying in your quarters all the time. Or have you another marriage to get into that night?" Yura wore a smile, but he knew what he was doing, and he had every reason to be angry with what Yuuri once was. After all, Plisetsky and the son of Yuuri's late husband were very close friends.

"I don't know what you're getting at. I'm happily married." Yuuri slides his chair back, remembering to be perfectly calm.

"For the fourth time in six years, you are. You've got quite a record. You know, I believe your personal servants are rumored to be calling you 'Misteress' now, isn't that amusing?"

"Yuri!!!" Suddenly Popovich speaks up, his voice startling both young men. "That was rude. Apologize to him right now."

Yura smiles brightly. "I'm sorry, honest. I'm sure you knew I was joking, right?"

"Of course." Yuuri forces a small laugh, "My servants can be quite humorous sometimes." He takes a final huff of the cigarette before dipping it into the ashtray. "I've been married too many times, admittedly, but it was never my choice until now."

"Whatever, whatever," Yura's blushing from the embarrassment of being scolded by an adult he barely knows and he's trying to play it off. "Anyway, you have to go to the party to make sure Viktor behaves, so what are you wearing?"

Yuuri pauses. "I was just fitted for a new costume. It's a scarlet red color, slim and... I think I'll make sure I match Viktor."

"I look forward to seeing you there, Yuuri," Professor Popovich says kindly, "and thank you for having us tonight. Supper was delicious."

***

"Christ, for the life of me I'll never have enough patience to deal with that slutty bitch my cousin pulls around," Yuri complains to the professor as they leave the mansion together along with Giacometti on the long walk back to town. The sun is slipping over the horizon, barely visible through the dark storm clouds rolling in. "I wish he'd just hurry up and catch polio and die or something."

"Little Yura, that isn't a kind thing to wish on anyone!" Professor Popovich frowns. "Yuuri is kind and caring, he's a very good person—"

"He's killed three people, at the very least. He's a sick monster." A gust of wind blows through the trees, sending chills down his spine.

"He's a frail young thing who was sold by his own father to keep him from starving to death." Chris informs him, "And he's been through too much, so please go easy on him."

"And Viktor hasn't?" Yura rolls his eyes. "His entire family dies in a goddamn shipwreck, he spends years and years alone and then ends up with this manipulative bitch of all people! He's going to break Viktor's heart, take his money, and leave him for dead!"

Christophe continues after the statement with his own bit of information, telling them, "There's rumor that someone is planning to threaten Feltsman's life at the masquerade next week. If you're so convinced about him, I'd have my eye out for Yuuri Nikiforov." He glances up at the large, eerie house behind them as if Yuuri's somehow listening, "Something tells me there's blood on his hands already, and if you're right, he's itching for more."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm cleaning up this story, adding a thing or two here and there!
> 
> The art at the beginning of this fic is by [verminuet](https://verminuet.tumblr.com) and I'm so happy with it, show them some love!


	2. The Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri attends the party at Viktor's side for quite possibly the final time. As he quickly grows ill throughout the day, disaster unfolds at the mansion when a body is found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the love thus far! Here is chapter one!
> 
> Comments are more than welcome pls I like feedback

It is the eve of the masquerade themed party at Feltsman’s mansion and Yuuri’s seamstress is with him in his parlor making the final adjustments to his costume. A heavy rain falls outside in the midst of a strong thunderstorm and Yuuri considers hiding someplace without a tree near the window due to irrational fears that one will fall on him one day while he isn’t paying attention.

His seamstress is more of a personal advisor to him than an employee, but today their discussions have been nothing but smalltalk in avoidance to the pressing topic of Viktor’s unpleasant attitude that evening.

He’d been terribly rude to the seamstress from the moment she walked into their house, and even snapped at Yuuri when he tried to reprimand him over it. He then stormed into his private study, door slamming shut behind him. He knew Viktor had a bad day at work and was suffering a migraine, and any time he felt even the slightest bit ill he always turned a bit clingy. So obviously, when Yuuri told him he’d have to stay away while he got his outfit fitted, he didn’t take it very well.

“Any idea who pissed him off?” The seamstress wraps a measuring tape around his middle and frowns. “You’ve grown an  _ inch  _ since I last measured you just over a month ago.”

“That can’t be right,” Yuuri groans, looking down at his pudgy stomach. “I haven’t changed my diet, and if anything I have been eating less in preparation for this!”

“My measurements are never inaccurate.” She replies calmly. “I’ve been keeping record of your waist size for close to two years, Yuuri. This isn’t an error. But, really, it’s just an inch, and you might still be able to fit into the costume without an issue. It’s not a big deal.”

“That’s awful…” Yuuri flops down onto the divan beside them, resting his face in the fabric. “I’ve gotten so fat.”

“You could always be expecting. That would be a very lovely reason to gain weight, wouldn’t it?” the seamstress packs up her things, preparing for a long night of fixing seams should Yuuri not fit into this dress. “Try this thing on before I leave.”

“Oh, that isn’t possible.” Yuuri waves his hand, obeying her command and slipping the outfit over his head. It does feel rather tight… “Minako, i-if I ever was, how would I know? Expecting, I mean...”

She gives him a pitiful look, but says nothing until she can get the outfit zipped. “I’m not sure, I’ve never had children… how do you feel right now?" 

“I feel fine.” He lifts his arms to the side to test the seam. “Should I feel any other way?”

Minako shrugs. “It’s beyond me. Still, if you continue to grow without a real reason and encounter um,  _ other  _ issues, I would visit a doctor. Right now though, this is nothing and I wouldn’t look too much into it. You asked me to make this costume tight, and it really is just an inch, Yuuri." 

“Right… just an inch.” He sighs. “Thank you for all your help, Minako. Let me out of this thing and I’ll go find a check.”

She watches him rummage his desk for the signed check Viktor had given him earlier on in the afternoon. He does seem to be a little bit shaky. “Are you sure you’re alright, Yuuri?”

“Yes. I guess I’m just nervous about tomorrow.” He gives her the paper. “One more question, though?”

***

Yuuri takes his time walking down to Viktor’s study to have a word with him about his behavior. He’s sure it was nothing major and Viktor simply had a bad day, but it still wasn’t acceptable for him to do to as old a friend as Minako.

He’s only wearing his long, black silk robe now, but it was warm enough earlier on in the day to prevent him from getting cold. When he approaches the study door, he can hear Viktor talking to someone; likely on the telephone. He doesn’t want to interrupt, but…

“How do I bring up that awful of a topic of a divorce with him? I want it to go as smoothly as possible. What- no, not until after the party, of course, but when the time comes. He’s so sensitive and sweet; this is going to be very difficult for me to do.” Yuuri is so surprised by those words that he accidentally pushes the door open. It bangs against the wall; startling Viktor, startling Yuuri, and startling whoever is on the telephone. Viktor’s eyes are wide and he looks like he’s seen a ghost. “Y-Yuuri, I…”

Yuuri is gone before he could get a good look at him.

.

“Hi, Yuuri,” Dr. Monroe, Yuuri’s regular physician, meets him in the waiting area of his office the following morning. Yuuri is quick to stand and shake his hand, and the doctor already notices his anxiety. “What brings you here today?”

He had visited before, with Yuuri’s last… incident the past spring, but Yuuri never went to his office any other time, so Dr. Monroe has a feeling that something similar to last time is going on. 

Yuuri smooths the front of his skirt; usually he wears pants in public, which indicates his request for an examination. “I came here because I suspect that I  _ may _ be pregnant again.” He eyes the several other people in the waiting room warily, hoping they do not recognize him. 

Without a word, Dr. Monroe leads him to his examining room. “Why do you think you are?”

 “My symptoms… they’re like before. And I’ve been getting sick quite often… and, um… it’s definitely possible considering the last time I…” Yuuri blushes up to his ears. “The dates match, I mean.”

“Have you told Viktor, this time?”

He shakes his head slowly. “I want to be sure, first. And I think I’ll wait until I’m further along, if I really am pregnant. I wouldn’t want him to be disappointed if I was to lose another." 

“But he’s your husband.” The doctor says pointedly. “He deserves to know so that he can help you.”

After a few more pressing and embarrassing questions, and an even more awkward and thorough examination, Yuuri gets the answer he was looking for.

“Everything good, Master Yuuri?” Minami asks on the ride home. 

Yuuri hides a smile behind his hand and nods. “Yes. I just want to go home and get some sleep.”

.

Yuuri's fingers are trembling as he pulls the brand new red costume from its bag on the floor and sets it on a chair beside the vanity. It’s the night of the party, and he and Viktor are already late. He should've been ready to go, but… he just can’t stop thinking…

_ "Yuuri, you're a smart young man and you know how difficult things have been for our family recently. We're about to go out of business..." _

_ Yuuri nodded, rubbing his arms in the cold November air. Even though he was indoors in his family’s one bedroom shack on the outskirts of Atlanta, the draft from the current storm coming in felt as if he were sitting outside in the cold. _

_"And we've only ever wanted what's best for you," his mother tearfully continued, "your father's real sick, and Mari is, well... I- I can't let you stay here in this environment. I want you to have a chance at making a life for yourself." She opened the wardrobe in the corner of her bedroom, revealing a red, satin outfit. It’s lovelier than anything he’d ever owned, and he recalled pointing it out to his sister on their way into town two weeks back. What occasion would occur to ever possess his family to spend more money than they probably had on such a nice outfit?_  

_ "Mom, w-what do you want me to do?" His heartbeat quickened. He wanted to run, far, far away and never look back… he already knew what was coming before it was said. _

_ "Y-You've met Mr. Lombardi, haven't you?"  _

He holds his head, sucking in a few deep breaths. It's okay. I _ t's okay. You can do this. Everything's alright. It’s just one night. _

Tonight will be his first and last party attended with Viktor as a married couple.

He knows he shouldn't be nervous, but the reminder that everyone invited likely will remember him from a different marriage and silently judge and... no! It's a masquerade! No one will know who he is unless he speaks to them.

_ It took close to an hour to coax Yuuri from the barn loft. He'd been hysterical, terrified of what his parents had arranged for him. He had to get married... _

_ And the man they mentioned was already there, waiting out on the front porch impatiently. He looked cruel.  _

_ "Yuuri, you have to do this. Just smile and be nice to him, and everything will be alright." It was his sister who'd said that; she was sitting at the bottom of the ladder, shivering in a thin, ripped shawl. "Mom and Dad wouldn't arrange this if they weren't sure he'd treat you well." _

_ "I- I don't want to m-marry someone I don't know!" Yuuri bawled. "I'm scared!" _ He wasn’t even eighteen years old yet, and this man appeared to be older than his father.

"Master Yuuri," one of the servants is at the door now, knocking, "the car's been pulled around. You'll be late if you don't leave soon."

"Thank you," Yuuri responds, his voice a lot shakier than he wanted it to be.

Viktor is going to this party with intentions that weren't there previously. He tried pleading with Yuuri the night before about what had been overheard on the phone, swearing up and down it wasn’t about him, but he wasn’t believed. 

(“Darling, please be reasonable and let me explain myself!” Viktor begged at the door of Yuuri’s bedroom. “I promise, there is a good explanation to whatever you heard, if you’ll just let me talk to you!”

“No, leave me alone!” Was Yuuri’s only response.

He did end up letting Viktor in after far too much pleading, under the condition that Viktor would not speak to him and only go straight to bed.

Yuuri cried a lot that night, refusing to be consoled.)

They hadn’t spoken to each other all day, and being that this party would be their last together, something told him it would be unforgettable. Still, he didn’t want it to be their last; he wanted to go to parties with Viktor on his arm for the rest of his days, for there was no place he felt safer or more content.

_ "Maybe you'll get along just fine," his sister began to climb the ladder. "You don't have to love him."  _

_ "But I only ever wanted to marry for love," Yuuri whimpered, hugging his knees, "now I'll never find it!"  _

_ "God damn it, Yuuri, the man is going to assist our family by giving us one less mouth to feed and jobs for Mom and I, and you're going to get down from there right now and go with him! Forget about marrying for love, lives are on the line!"  _

"Master Yuuri, you really need to—" 

"I said okay! Please just leave me alone!" He didn’t mean to sound so cross, but there is no use going back to apologize now.

This is a mistake. He shouldn't go. Nobody wants him to be there, and he shouldn't have even thought of the idea. He'll just... fake an illness and take some pills to fall asleep.

Well, faking an illness wouldn't be hard, considering he already feels like vomiting. He’s felt it in the pit of his stomach all day, but now it’s only getting stronger.

_ Yuuri remembers walking across the yard towards the front to meet the man who lived up the road. He was nervous, but the lustful gaze he looked upon Yuuri with told him of his intentions. The man offered Yuuri a new coat as a birthday gift, then ushered him to his car. _

_ They didn’t talk at all during the car ride, and the man kept glancing at Yuuri for long moments, but Yuuri refused to so much as breathe in his direction. He was too scared.  _

_ His house was small, but Yuuri didn't catch a good enough look before the man took him to his bed.  _

_ They were married the following morning, and Yuuri never got the chance to go home again.  _

He rests his palms against the vanity and closes his eyes as he contemplates the proper excuse to come up with.

“I'm too tired. 

I don't feel well. 

Go on without me. 

I'll be fine.”

The powder room door clicks open. Yuuri snaps his head up to see Viktor through the reflection, and judging by his impatient gaze, he'd better..."I- I'm too nervous, Viktor." 

"I know, I am too." He's toneless, already dressed and ready to go, "but you still have to come with me. Everyone's expecting us." He takes the dress and holds it to Yuuri's midsection so that he can step into it. "We'll leave after I get a word in with Feltsman. I can't imagine us staying very long." Yuuri closes his eyes, feeling the material slip above his legs and up his sides. What was the point of speaking with Feltsman anymore? If Viktor really was going to divorce him, there would be no reason whatsoever to bring a child into the picture. "You can just sit and eat. I don't expect you to be that social; and we're just on a mission tonight."

Yuuri nods. “I’m never eating again.”

"This color really suits you," Viktor turns Yuuri around to zip up the dress. It grows very tight around his middle, but he yanks the zipper up so Yuuri wouldn't notice. He still does.

"I’ll look just as horrid as I usually do.”

"Hey." Viktor cups his cheeks, gazing down at Yuuri's made up face, "You look stunning. You know that? I'm jealous. I wish I could pull off such dashing ensembles.”

"I look worse than usual," Yuuri laments, sitting down on the stool in front of his table, "I can barely fit in this outfit, what makes you think I'll look good at all? I don’t want to go. I want to stay home.”

"That's it." Viktor scowls. For a moment, Yuuri believes he's going to leave on his own, but then he crouches, and the next thing Yuuri knows he's been swung over Viktor's shoulder. He's now mostly upside down and being carried out of his rooms. "Viktor! Put me down, I'm not ready yet!”

“Oh, please, you’ve been in there for hours. No more excuses!”

* * *

 

In all honesty, Viktor has never thought Yuuri looked more seductive than he does in his outfit for the party. It’s a scarlet color, incredibly tight all the way down to his thighs, and from there it loosely drops to his calves; the back lightly touching the ground. As far as the neckline, Yuuri made sure to design it modestly enough to keep people from getting the wrong idea, yet it consists of a straight line perhaps three inches below his collarbone and his back is partially exposed. There are also removable sleeves that barely cover his shoulders, but Viktor thinks he looks better without them. He just wouldn’t want Yuuri to remove them while in public. Perhaps in the privacy of their car, he'd like to remove the entire outfit, but... 

Viktor is wearing an olive green suit that he’d picked out while in town with his cousin the other day. Yura had made sure it was a dark enough green so he wouldn’t “resemble a tree”, and plain enough that it wouldn’t clash with Yuuri’s costume. Either way, Viktor knows that nobody will be paying him any attention once they catch a glimpse of Yuuri.

The one-hour car ride is awfully quiet as Viktor had decided he wanted to be the one driving. Free of any servants’ interruption, Yuuri once hoped that tonight would be romantic for the two of them, but now it seemed to be awkward. He wants to demand an explanation about the night before, or perhaps yell at Viktor for even thinking that way, but he does nothing. He knows now is not the time. Will there ever be a proper time? He doesn’t know.

At least his stomach feels better now. He can cross that off the list of things to worry about and try to get some rest before the chaos of the party overwhelms him.

Soon, Yuuri falls asleep against Viktor's shoulder on the way. He plans on drinking the night away to avoid any anxious thoughts, the biggest being:  _ what happens to me after tonight? Where will I go?  _

Viktor considers himself a good driver. After all, the way he keeps the car steady enough to not wake Yuuri must be something to brag about, eh?

However, when he approaches the mansion to find limited parking and a lot of bustling people, he doubts his skills. Very, very slowly, he pulls into one of the few remaining places on the grass. He doesn't want to wake Yuuri...

But those red lips look so kissable, he can't think of a better way to do it.

He leans in and presses his lips over Yuuri's, reveling in the taste, the...

Yuuri's pushes back, wide awake as if he never had been asleep at all, but he's still holding onto Viktor. "Are we here now?"

"We don't have to be..." Viktor pulls him closer. "We can be late."

"Viktorrrrr," Yuuri whines, "you're the one that said we have to be here! We'll... ah, stop, that tickles!" He struggles to push Viktor's face from his neck, feeling himself heat up and praying he doesn't actually lose this battle. "C-Come on... we can’t do this here...a-aha! Stop it!" He can't contain his laughter; a sign for Viktor to stop. He feels accomplished.

He pulls back from Yuuri and gives him a final kiss on the forehead. "You going to be alright?" Does he mean for the dinner, or for the rest of his life without Viktor?

"Absolutely. It's just dinner. What's the worst thing that could happen? Me getting rejected by my husband of two years because I was forced to get married three times before him? Or me being shamed by said husband because I haven’t bore him any sons yet, so he tells everyone what a terrible person I am?”

“You misunderstand me, dear,” Viktor rests his head against the steering wheel, “I don’t care about any of those issues.”

“Then why would you even think about leaving me, Viktor? You know I gave up everything I had just to be with you. Can’t you see how seriously I’m taking our marriage?” Yuuri’s on the verge of tears, so he quickly looks away. There are a few guests getting out of their cars nearby; some are wearing plain black suits, or plain black dresses; nothing exciting…

“We’ll discuss this when we leave the party, Yuuri.” Viktor says calmly, “For now, we are married, and all is well. Smile.”

"Blegh," Otabek Altin has just caught a glimpse of some guests coming up the front sidewalk, from his perch at one of the large windows, "everyone hide your wallets, the Black Widow has arrived."

"Only I'm allowed to say that," Young Yura has given himself another glass of champagne, but Otabek takes it from him and downs it in one gulp. He’s wearing an all white costume in contrast to his taller friend’s jet black suit.

"Shouldn't I be the one with a right to it?" Otabek asks. "After all, he was my step-parent for almost two years and completely ruined my life. I can't wait to give him a piece of my mind."

"You don't have to say anything to him, he'll cry if you look at him long enough." Yura smirks. "I have a feeling he won't be staying long." Had anyone else but Otabek been insulting Yuuri, he might have had an issue, but this is rather fun.

"What are you boys looking at?" Mr. Feltsman's closest associate, some Celestino something or other— is approaching.

"Nothing."

The doors to the room swing open, and Yura strains to find Yuuri amongst the dozen people who are also coming inside or exiting. He cannot see him. Damn it.

But when he notices the chatter dim from a particular part of the room, he knows Yuuri must be over there. “Otabek, tonight at some point you must promise me you’ll approach Yuuri in the calmest manner possible and ask him for a dance. I’d like to see his face turn a brighter red than that ugly costume.”

“Do you think he would even accept?” Otabek’s grin is cocky, “he might just faint into his next victim’s arms right then and there.”

***

Yuuri shakily pours a glass of champagne and picks out a place for himself to go in the corner of the room to try and ignore the judgmental stares that have been plaguing him since he walked through the door. Even if they weren't looking at him, he feels like they are.

Nobody has said hello to him, perhaps he hasn't been recognized? Hell, he hasn't recognized anyone either with the peculiar masks they are all wearing.

Still, Chris and Professor Popovich are here somewhere, and they've got to stand out. Where...

Oh, whatever. He slices himself a piece of cake and goes to his corner. The only person by the window is a dark-skinned servant who looks about as bored as he feels. Just as Yuuri's about to take a bite of the cake though, the servant speaks: "Should you really be eating that? You should probably watch your figure if you ever want to fit in that dress again."

Yuuri lowers his fork. "E-Excuse me?" He ought to have a word with the servant's master! How dare— wait, is he really getting that overweight? Oh god! Oh god....

"Just advice. It's such a pretty dress. Probably cost your man an arm and a leg, eh? Would be a shame to return it."

"T-That's incredibly rude of you!" Yuuri's voice cracks. "What place do you have to tell me what to eat or how I look? You're just a servant!"

The servant smiles kindly. "My apologies, sir," he bows mockingly. "I just might be the only one here who knows your roots though. Weren't you residing in the slums outside Atlanta until 1916? Your family ran a bathhouse or something."

Yuuri's eyes widen, and he struggles to remain expressionless. "Shut up, now. You shouldn't know anything about me! You don't know me."

"You're Yuuri Katsuki. Everyone knows you." The servant steps closer. "You moved from Atlanta to New Orleans, then to Washington, D.C., with your third husband. You now live in here in New York in the Nikiforov family home. You're married to Viktor Nikiforov, as you have been since 1920."

"What the fuck do you want from me?" Yuuri whispers harshly.

"I'm Master Feltsman's personal servant, I can't help but know these things. He's been looking into your records, you see," The servant says, "so I'm here to warn you. He's investigating you for the murder of your late husband. There's a man coming tomorrow who he's going to hand the investigation off to."

"And why are you telling me this..." He feels faint, he needs to find Viktor and get the hell out of there… wait. This servant is most definitely lying. It wouldn’t make any sense. Master Altin’s death was ruled a suicide two years ago, case closed. There would be no point in reopening that pointless case.

"Because I care enough about people. You're not innocent, are you?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about," Yuuri forces a smile, beyond relieved when he sees Christophe Giacometti striding towards him in a golden colored suit. "Chris! Hey, do you want to dance?"

"Oh my, you’re so forward this evening, Yuuri," Chris offers his arm and guides him towards the dance floor obliviously. "I'd be honored."

The servant watches.  

Yuuri calmly places a hand on Chris’ shoulder, looking up at his eyes through the mask, “How has the party been so far for you, Chris?”

“It’s been lovely,” he responds, “but still, something feels off and I can’t quite put my finger on it. You know what I mean?”

“Unfortunately I do,” Yuuri stands on the tips of his toes when the song concludes and whispers, “a servant threatened me a moment ago with false claims. What kind of party is this?”

Chris gapes at him. “You too? I thought I was the only one!”

“What do you mean, you too? Tell me everything!”

“Not here,” he says quietly, “but soon, I promise.” The next song begins, so they resume dancing. “Has Viktor gone to speak with Feltsman, then?”

“He has.” Yuuri nearly steps on Chris’ foot. He’s not a very good dancer tonight, but perhaps it’s just nerves… and hunger, definitely hunger. He’s starving.

“I’m sorry you two are being put through such a harrowing situation. Personally, I’m thrilled Mr. Feltsman is retiring. He’s always been such a prick.”

“I can’t argue with that.” Why is everyone suddenly staring at him and Chris? They aren’t that good of dance partners due to Chris’ height and skill compared to Yuuri’s inexperience. But still, it would seem there may be a line of people waiting to dance with one of them.

Chris gently steps back from him. “We’ll talk more about what I mentioned later. It looks like you have several gentlemen asking for a dance partner.”

* * *

 

"Mr. Feltsman, we need to talk," Viktor had approached his old mentor in one of the dark and far too quiet halls with preset intentions made perfectly clear, "and yes, it's urgent." They're walking together towards the study now, meeting each other stride for stride.

"If it's about the adoption application, the answer is still no." Mr. Feltsman wears a straight face as he opens the study door. "Sorry, Vitya."

Viktor stands there, flabbergasted. "There is no reason to refute us! We are very well-off and I have a stable job, and a house big enough for a hundred children, let alone one!"

"That wasn't the deciding factor, and you know that."

"Yuuri and I can't have children of our own. We need this, Mr. Feltsman, please. No one else will approve us... you're my oldest friend, my mentor, can't you do me a favor just this once?"

"Just this once? My decision was final. You and your husband were denied, and you'll be denied by every other center from here on out. If you want children so badly, either make some of your own or take in a relative."

"You're not being fair. How can you crush someone's dreams so easily, without remorse?"

"Yuuri is suspected to have caused the death of a husband. He cheated on two of them. He divorced one. He's had four goddamn marriages in six years, and to top that all off, you're divorcing him after this year. How is that stable? What happens to the child when you divorce him? You’re so mindless, Vitya. I do not understand you.”

Viktor pinched his lips together for a moment. "If your wife was sold at the age of seventeen, forcibly married to men triple her age, neglected and abused constantly for years until she found refuge with you, had one goddamn wish to have a baby, but could not, you'd grant her that wish, wouldn't you?? I don’t care if I’m going to stick around for the child, this is for Yuuri, not me!”

"You're always like this. It's the last night of my career before I retire and you're here nagging me! You want to start issues, Nikiforov? Bring it up with the next judge in my place. And you know what? He'll say no too. I already know this because he was my apprentice."

"Mr. Feltsman, I—!"

"That's enough, Viktor! I'm done talking with you. Please leave."

"You'll be done when I say you are. I'm not leaving until you grant this approval."

"Is that so?" Feltsman smiles as he shuts the door in Viktor’s face. 

“Yeah, keep hiding in there, you coward!” He shouts to no one in particular. Now that he’s shouted though, he feels sheepish and glances around to make sure no one heard him. It doesn’t seem like anyone is close enough to hear him, or hear any noise for that matter… 

* * *

 

A few minutes later, he returns to the party in search for Yuuri so that they can leave, but he finds him on the dancefloor, swapping partners every half a song. It seems like every male attending can’t wait to get their hands on him, and his husband is just so painfully oblivious. If his current partner slides his hand any lower… Viktor will…

“Champagne, sir?” A maid carrying a tray of champagne glasses is standing in front of him. He hadn’t noticed due to his intense stare, but now that he has looked, he recognizes her as Yakov’s lead maid. “Mila?”

“Yes, sir?” She clearly doesn’t recognize him from the many nights she’d had to clean up after him when he’d gotten too drunk at Yakov’s parties…

“Do tell me: has that man left the dancefloor at all this evening?” He points to Yuuri. 

“What do you think of him?”

Mila makes a face. “Freedom to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted.”

“Anyone who allows that many men to dance with them with a wedding ring on their finger is the kind of person who is not loyal to their spouse. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the guests takes him home tonight as soon as they can get him drunk.” Viktor’s insulted, to say the least, but his suspicions are correct. No one here truly respects Yuuri, and then by default him. How will either of them ever be taken seriously as a couple if one has such a nasty label stamped on him? It’s heart-wrenching to think about, but Yuuri’s past is not his fault, and it’s not his responsibility to chase all the suspicious people away--- because don’t they have perfectly good reasons to be?

Viktor sighs, striding onto the dance floor. He catches Yuuri’s forearm before another person can offer him a dance and pulls him close. “I hope you didn’t mind I cut in.”

“I was hoping you would. Those men get a little handsy, you know…” Yuuri’s shoulders are turning pink from the strong blush he’s wearing. He’s removed the sleeves! He leans in, nearly flush with Viktor. “I did hope you’d get jealous enough to save me, too.”

“Who?” Viktor twirls him and strains to hear him over the loud music.

“Um… I’ve lost count. But it’s okay, it’s the most attention I’ve gotten in a long time. It feels like no one is treating me any different than the next person when I’m out here. Right?”

Viktor wants to facepalm in the center of the floor, but he keeps his smile. “Just don’t drink anymore, my dear, we’ll be leaving soon.”

“We got invited to a private after party in the house afterwards. I think we should stay; there’ll just be a few people here! And besides, since we showed up so late to the party anyway, it doesn’t make sense to leave so soon.” Yuuri hugs him tightly. “Please?”

“What’s with the sudden change of heart? Earlier you were complaining of being too fat and ugly to be here, and now you want to stay?” Viktor’s voice sounds a little harsher than he’d intended, and he sees the effect on Yuuri’s face.

“I’m going to the afterparty, with or without you.” Yuuri lets go of him and leaves to find a different partner. Before he knows it, he’s caught up in the arms of his old stepson.

It can’t get any worse than that.

But Viktor isn’t done scolding. He marches back over to him, tapping his shoulder far too hard. “Sometimes I don’t know if you’re just painfully naive or just plain stupid, Yuuri! The only reason anyone here is paying attention to you at all is because they want to see how  _ easy  _ you are, and you’re about to prove them right! Here you are, flaunting yourself around men and then wondering why they all think you’re a whore...”

Yuuri gasps. “Stop it, Viktor! Y-You’re just too jealous and tipsy to think clearly. You’re going to embarrass yourself.” He’s thankful no one in the crowd seemed to notice Viktor’s rant, as he hadn’t been very loud anyway. He puts a hand on Viktor’s arm. “Go outside and get some air. Come back when you’re calmed down.” Yes, he’s hurt, but he assumes Viktor didn’t mean it.

Viktor looks down. “Okay.”

_ I am the farthest thing from a whore. Anyone who thinks I am one doesn’t know the real me. _

He feels sick again.

* * *

 

Yuuri isn't feeling so well when it comes time for the afterparty. The champagne tasted funny and didn't sit right with his stomach. He's now locked away in a washroom near Feltsman's private lounge, far from the party itself, and resting his face against the toilet. Viktor's probably looking for him right now, ready to leave after the night he’s had. And still, Yuuri wants to stay a little longer to figure out what Chris had wanted to tell him at the beginning of the night, and find out why Professor Popovich had been looking at him so angrily for the entirety of the night. Yura Plisetsky could do that, sure, but never anyone as gentle-hearted as Georgi Popovich.

Before he does any of that though, he needs to find the strength to stand up without vomiting. He’d had an overall good time dancing with everyone and barely drank any champagne or ate anything besides the bite of cake. This was completely unfair… maybe Viktor was right all along then, they should have gone home instead of sticking around. He must have seen something Yuuri didn’t; perhaps people had been saying things about him behind his back. God, he could just see it...

He's struggling to fight back frustrated tears, for he knows crying will only make everything worse. But still, he feels like he needs to cry. Why is he being so emotional this evening? You’d think one would have died.

After another twenty minutes of fighting back sickness and tears, he feels well enough to stand. He’s grateful that no one showed up during his absence. Yuuri exits the bathroom and goes into the now silent mansion, searching for a balcony to get some air on and probably smoke a cigarette or two to calm his nerves. 

Chris said that everyone would be meeting in the billiard room to play pool, but Yuuri has no idea where that would be. It’s not as if anyone gave him a map of the mansion, after all; he only knew the front room where the party had been and the long hall leading back to the washroom.

As he begins to walk back down the hall, he suddenly trips over something that's been unknowingly lying on the ground. "Ow! What the hell?" Wincing, he hikes the skirt over his knees, revealing scrapes from his clumsy mistake. The culprit was a large metal box with sharpened edges. Curiosity gets the better of him, and he pushes it open. It's a lengthy candlestick, and there is strange looking stains on it. Yuuri's careful not to get any fingerprints on it; he doesn't want any trouble. This box certainly wasn't here before.  Someone wanted him to find it. The house seems empty though, so who would have left this for him?

No matter what the reason is, he has to hide it. Yuuri ends up finding a storage closet by the bathroom. He stuffs it inside and hurries off into the opposite direction.  _ Maybe it is time to go home,  _ he thinks,  _ something is not right in this house tonight.  _

To his luck, he notices a door swing shut further down the hallway and a figure walking towards him. “Viktor…?”

"What are you doing back here?" To his horror, it’s not the someone he was hoping for, just Yura. “Probably looking to steal something, right?”

“What? No… I should be asking you the same thing though.” Yuuri can’t take it anymore. He has been holding an unused cigarette for long enough. He lights it using one of the lit candles in front of the window by the balcony, and takes a strong huff from it. “That wasn’t the billiard room you just came out of, was it?”

“No, of course not. Why would I be in the billiard room?” Yura grumbles. “Everyone’s in the ballroom still, getting insanely wasted I’m assuming. I was just looking for the washroom.”

“It’s… down the hall…” Yuuri motions towards the room he’d spent so much time in, but then- “Um… if you don’t mind, I’m going to have to use it first.” His stomach is churning again.

“Are you fucking serious? What the f-”

***

Yuuri gets sick as quietly as possible with the embarrassing knowledge that Yura was on the other side of the washroom door, obviously listening. He swallows hard, wiping his mouth. “Yura… can you please go get my husband?”

“Why don’t you go get him yourself?” The boy snaps back.

“Please… if you don’t I will only be in here longer.”

Yura swears under his breath, but he most definitely disappears down the hallway.

Yuuri shuts his eyes and blacks out for several moments.

When Viktor’s game of pool is interrupted due to something Yuuri was up to, Viktor is less than pleased. However, upon hearing that “the stupid pig is sick”, he expresses general concern and creates quite a scene in rushing to the washroom. Most of the candles that had been lit in the halls were now put out; and whether they’d been blown out or scheduled to do so he did not know, nor care.

He knocks lightly on the door, and when he doesn’t get an answer, comes in anyway.

Yuuri hasn’t moved a muscle as he continues to rest his face against the seat.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” He kneels beside Yuuri; a twinge of guilt surging through him for leaving him so early on in the night. Something awful may have happened…

“I need to go home,” Yuuri rasps, “you were right, about those men? Also, I feel ill…”

“Can you stand up?” Viktor clasps his hands, pressing a kiss to one of them.

“I- I think so. It’s coming in waves.” Yuuri shakily pulls himself to his feet, meeting Viktor’s gaze. “I’m sorry I danced with everyone tonight. I only wanted to have a good time and show people I’m not as bad as they think I am.”

“Did you eat something bad? You were fine before we got here…” He touches the small of Yuuri’s back.

“I only had a little bit of champagne and a bite of cake.” He sniffs, resisting the urge to tell him the true reason for his sickness. “But you’re not sick, so I don’t understand!”

“Alright, then we’re going home.” Viktor pulls open the bathroom door. “If this continues tomorrow, we’ll call for a doctor.”

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” Yuuri clings to him as they exit the mansion from the grand hall. Every light is out, and it’s storming. Had he not felt so out of it, he might have been scared. Still, when they open the door, the rain and cool air feels good against his hot skin.

“Just a little bit.” Viktor admits. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Yuuri has stopped walking and is staring off towards the side of the house.

“I- I thought I saw something…” He lets go of Viktor’s arm and trudges across the muddy grass with Viktor in tow.

“Yuuri, whatever it was doesn’t matter. Come on now, you’re ill. You shouldn’t be out in this rain.” Viktor jogs to keep up with him, freezing in his tracks upon reaching the side of the house.

As lightning strikes overhead, the ground is illuminated and reveals what Yuuri had seen lying on the grass from across the yard.

It is the body of Yakov Feltsman.


	3. Chapter Two: The Billiard Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Yura, I know you dislike me, but do you honestly think I’m the one that killed Yakov Feltsman?” 
> 
> “You?” Yuri's face scrunches up in disgust. “Of course not. You’re too weak to do it.”
> 
> “And what about Mr. Altin? I want you to know the truth about him, but first I want you to be honest with me.”
> 
> “Otabek thinks you did. That’s all I want to say.”
> 
> Or
> 
> The group splits up to search for clues, but the mystery unfolding just seems to be getting even more difficult to solve.

**FELTSMAN MANOR**

**SATURDAY, MAY 20TH, 1922**

 

**10:15 PM**

 

**RECORD ACCESSED SEPTEMBER 27TH, 1922 FOR LEGAL PURPOSES**

 

**THE VICTIM IS A 70 YEAR OLD CAUCASIAN MALE. APPROXIMATELY FIVE FEET, NINE INCHES AND ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY FIVE POUNDS.**

 

**FOUND DEAD AT 9:00 PM IN THE LEFT YARD IN BETWEEN AN OAK TREE AND SHRUBS. NO FURTHER EVIDENCE FOUND. CAUSE OF DEATH: CURRENTLY UNKNOWN.**

 

**CURRENT SUSPECTS ARE AS FOLLOWS:**

 

**YUURI NIKIFOROV, AGE 24**

**VIKTOR NIKIFOROV, AGE 28**

**JEAN-JACQUES LEROY, AGE 25**

**COL. CHRISTOPHE GIACOMETTI, AGE 36**

**YURI PLISETSKY, AGE 18**

**PROF. GEORG POPOVICH, AGE 32**

 

**OFFICIAL WITNESSES**

 

**MILA BABICHEVA**

**SALA CRISPINO**

**PHICHIT CHULANONT**

 

**INVESTIGATION IS RUN BY PHICHIT CHULANONT UNTIL LOCAL AUTHORITIES ARRIVE AT THE HOUSE. THEY HAVE BEEN INFORMED OF THE SITUATION AND HAVE YET TO ARRIVE.**

“This is bullshit.” Yuuri hears for quite possibly the hundredth time from outside the washroom from one of the other guests. He’s back on the floor, getting sick once again. Only this time, Viktor is sitting beside him, watching him with the most concerned of expressions.

“There must have been something in that champagne.” Viktor says, hesitantly resting a hand on Yuuri’s back. “I don’t even know if you could make it home in your condition.”

“Well I d-don’t want to stay here tonight!” Yuuri heaves, squeezing his eyes shut. “You’ve heard them, they already are suspecting it was me. And what defense do I even have? People are suspicious of me anyway.” Part of him wants to be left alone so he can be sick in peace, but his larger, fearful side begs for companionship on such an alarming night. He keeps seeing that body in the yard no matter where he looks- it’s glaring at him in the mirror right now.

When the lightning struck outside and Yuuri saw the face, that’s the one it’s making right now and it causes him to get sick all over again.

Watching men drag off the body as if it were no longer human was just as sickening. His head ached with all the shouting that’d gone on, accusations echoing through his mind now.

_It was you, wasn’t it?_

_You just can’t keep your goddamn hands clean, Yuuri?_

_For once, could you not ruin someone’s life?_

“I know you’re innocent, especially judging by your current condition.” Viktor says, “I wonder if there’s any tea here that can help you.” _At least you have faith in me._

“Tea won’t help everything.” Yuuri replies, “I’m certain you’re innocent as well. You wouldn’t kill someone like that, would you, Viktor?”

“No, I didn’t do it.” Viktor frowns. “But this isn’t about me, this is about you. Do you have any other symptoms currently? I want to help you in any way I can.”

“I just saw a dead body, Viktor. I’m going to be a little sick. It just reminded me of some things I’d like to forget. That and I’m… sore too.”

“Where?”

Biting his lip, he turns around to face Viktor and heaves up the skirt of the costume. “You don’t want to know.”

“Did someone-”

“No…” His face is red from embarrassment, but he knows he can’t keep this to himself. “It just hurts. Can you-”

“Sure, hold on.”

“Would you two pigs hurry the hell up in there!?” Yura kicks the washroom door and startles both of them. “You wouldn’t want to be left out of the important talks, would ya?”  
  
“Just a moment!” Viktor calls, “We need to get you home. This can’t be good.” he says in a quieter tone.

“I’m certain I’m dying then,” Yuuri smiles teasingly, pulling himself to his feet, “although I suppose that would be a good thing for you, right? Anyway, let’s go see what they want us for.”

Four guests and a servant stare blankly at the couple for a few moments when the door opens. Well, they mostly seem to be staring at Yuuri, and he hopes he hasn’t made too much noise retching his guts out.  “What, do I have a hickey? Ha...” He attempts to lighten the mood.

“Oh god, you’re so gross!” Failed.

* * *

 

Yuuri gazes at himself through the mirror above the sofa in the billiard room where himself and six other men are currently sitting. Everyone is arguing over what to do with Feltsman’s body, but the lead servant says he will take care of it. “None of you can leave because you are all suspects. Get cozy.” He’d said several times. This is the same servant that had insulted Yuuri earlier on in the night about his weight. Nobody was getting along with him.

Viktor is protesting that claim now, as he has been for quite some time, “My husband is very sick, and I need to take him home.”

“He is a prime suspect. If he’s so sick he should cooperate so we can all get out of here.” one of the other men, a Mr. Jean-Jacques Leroy interjects. He’s clad in a dark blue suit, and the mask he has removed has peacock feathers on it. “Honestly, this is all stupid. One of us should come clean already!” He looks directly at Yuuri.

“Don’t you even suggest that!” Viktor raises his voice. “Yuuri’s been sick all night, and before that he was on the dancefloor. I believe he was your dance partner for several rounds, Mr. Leroy. Aren’t you married?”

“Gentlemen, this isn’t the point,” Professor Popovich takes his turn in the still-continuing pool game against Mr. Giacometti. “We must split up and search for clues."

“You’re going to send Yuuri out there in his condition and-”

“Shut up, Viktor!” Yura snaps. “I’ll take your little pig, and we’ll search Yakov’s wing of the house. You go with Mr. Peacock here and search the yard, and Chris and Mr. Popovich, you two go speak with the rest of the servants. And as if I’d have anything to do with that crusty old man…”

“Any objections?” Chris asks. There’s only one, quiet protest that no one listens to. “Very well, then. Let’s go.”

Viktor is less than pleased to be separated from Yuuri on a night like this and voices his opinion to anyone in the general area whenever possible. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d witnessed a murder, and it certainly wouldn’t be his last. He knows that someone as currently weak and frail as Yuuri would be a prime suspect for any killer. But he swears up and down to himself that if anything happens to Yuuri tonight, he will end whomever caused the damage.

(“Are you sure you will be alright in here?” He’d asked before separating from Yuuri in the hallway. They were holding each other’s hands, but Viktor had the tightest grip.

Yuuri’s face still looked like it was going to turn green, but he nodded quickly. “Yeah. I’m feeling much better now."

“You don’t _look_ much better,” he frowned, brushing a finger against his mate’s cheek, “perhaps you should go lie down for a while?”

“I can’t get exempt from this search because I’m feeling a little ill. Besides, that makes me look suspicious, and I don’t want that. I just want to go home; my head is pounding.”

It took all Viktor had to accept that statement.

He smiled and pressed a kiss against Yuuri’s forehead. “Stay safe then. We’ll go home soon.”)

Now he was on his way outside in the rain towards where the body was recovered, lugging a heavy lantern along and keeping a watchful eye on Mr. Leroy. He’d never properly met the man before and had no idea whom his affiliations were with or what he was like, so he assumes smalltalk cannot hurt anything. “Did you know Feltsman well?”

Mr. Leroy looks surprised to be spoken to, but his usual cocky grin stands, “Personally? No. My wife was friends with his daughter a long while back. She was supposed to join me tonight, but one of our children is sick so she decided to stay back. Now I’m wishing I did the same.”

“I know just how you feel,” Viktor sighs. What he wouldn’t give to be cuddled up with Yuuri in bed right now, back in their own, safe home, free of any danger...

“You have kids?”

“Heh… no.” _Not yet._

“I didn’t think so. You don’t really look like the kind of person to have any children.” Mr. Leroy says this so casually as if it means nothing, but Viktor really takes it to heart.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hey, no hard feelings, Vik, it’s just that you’re so young and wealthy, I can’t imagine you wanting to settle down with anyone long enough to raise children in the peak of your youth.”

Three years ago he may have agreed with Mr. Leroy, but now, “in the peak of his youth”, he really just misses the idea of having a family and craves it more than anything. Money can’t buy that kind of happiness. “My parents and brothers died in a freak accident ten years ago, and before then we were never close; Father was always out on business and my mother was very sickly. I went to boarding school with my little brothers in England, and I was planning to go on this advertised luxurious cruise with them, but I ended up falling off a horse a week before we left and broke my leg. As punishment for being so reckless, my parents gave the ticket to someone else, and my family left. I obviously never saw them again. I ended up joining the military for a while to get my mind off them.”

“And you served in the Great War?”

“I did.”

“That was a difficult time. I was drafted myself, but thankfully only ended up with a bullet in the foot. I was released. What about you?”

Viktor typically doesn’t like talking about his war experiences, but if he doesn’t Mr. Leroy will believe he’s either lying or suspiciously secretive, so what choice does he have? “Trenches are simply lovely when you’re walking in six inches of water constantly. I served a year. Almost all the men I went in with died or lost their legs. I like to forget it happened.”

Mr. Leroy does not offer a word of sympathy. Instead, he asks, “So in a way, you should be dead right now, either from the shipwreck or the war. You’re one lucky bastard, Viktor.”

“I’ve always considered myself lucky.” He smiles, “But anyway, luck hasn’t reached me in the past several years. I’m married now and it looks like my spouse won’t be bearing me any children. That’s why we were here tonight, so I could convince Yakov to allow us to adopt. And of course, the son of a bitch ends up dead when I need him the most.”

“Who do you think killed him, though?” Mr. Leroy crouches down in the area where the body was found. Nothing. Not a trace- no footprints, blood, weapon- whoever did this certainly didn’t kill Mr. Feltsman outdoors.

“It was only us six in the house. Technically, Yuuri was closest to Yakov’s quarters, but we know for a fact he was too ill to even stand on his own.”  Viktor replies.

“What’s the matter with him anyway?”

“I wish I knew. He’s been so emotional today; complaining about being too overweight, too tired, too nervous, too nauseous- it goes on.” He chuckles.

“Well congratulations then, Viktor!” Mr. Leroy claps him on the back. “I didn’t know he was expecting.”

Viktor’s face heats up as he pretends to search through some shrubs beside the house. “Um… I’m not really sure he’s…”

“My wife was the same way with our oldest boy shortly before discovering she was pregnant. That and obvious other difficulties.”

Viktor’s stomach flutters, but he rejects that. “No, I’m sorry to say that isn’t the circumstance.”

“Well then, I’d be concerned for his health.” Mr. Leroy freezes in his tracks. “Look, there! A knife!”

“Where?” Viktor crouches to look under the shrubs, but he’s struggling to see anything in the dark. “I don’t see it.”

“I saw it there, Viktor,” Leroy insisted, pushing him out of the way. “A large knife.” He feels around the dirt, squinting in the dim light of the lantern. “Give me that thing and get out of the way!”  
“There’s nothing there!” Viktor drops the lantern by Leroy’s head. “You’re hallucinating. I’m going to leave you with the lantern and go search the stables.”  
“Now wait just a minute!!!”

* * *

 

"So when's your due date?" Yura asks when he and Yuuri are far enough away from the others.

"W-What? I'm not pregnant." Yuuri's face flushes. "I mean, I want to be, but—"

"Yeah yeah, too much information, Yuuri. You've been dreaming of carrying a screaming demonic being with Viktor's face on it for nine months and going through excruciating pain to get it out, just to have it leave you in eighteen years or die unexpectedly before then? You're weird."

Yuuri laughs softly. "More or less, absolutely!"

He sighs. "You aren't due any time soon. It's not too late to turn back."

"And what makes you think I'm expecting in the first place? This wouldn't be the first time I've gained weight."

"You're over emotional tonight, the sickness, and the stomach too. I know you are, what with how desperate my cousin and you are."

Yuuri chuckles. "I can't get pregnant."

"Mm. I'm not sure about that. You two are gross."

"You'll understand when you're older." He says. "I'm very lonely at home. Even though I have to run the house and answer professional calls and go on long errands for Viktor's business, sometimes even out of town, you know what? Nobody's with me other than my personal servant. I can't stand it."

"Get some friends, then," Yura suggests.

"As you know from you personally loathing me," he says, "nobody likes me. But if I had a baby? They wouldn't be biased. They'd love me unconditionally." That, and the image in his head of carrying Viktor's child inside of him— a special child for someone just as special, someone he's always loved so much—and seeing Viktor hold that baby in his arms and beam with pride, was beautiful.

What was the point now? They were divorcing.

It would be impossible to find a fifth husband. He simply couldn't do it! Especially as a single parent; who would possibly take him in?

He was sure, though, that Viktor would leave him enough money to be well off out of the kindness of his heart, though Yuuri already had more money from previous marriages than he knew what to do with. He hoped they could still be friends.

"You're disgusting."

"Thanks, once again, for reminding me. And I may be disgusting to you, but I do have feelings and I really hate being called names by someone who's supposed to be family." Yuuri pushes open Yakov's bedroom door. It’s dark.

"We are not family." Yura corrects. "Just like you and Otabek never were. You sent him off to boarding school when his father died. How cruel of you..."

"He wasn't my responsibility. In the will, it said Master Altin's sister was to manage the children, not me. I wasn't even in the will."

"So you didn't get any money?"

"Not a cent. After I... cheated on him, he had me taken out." Yuuri lights the candles around the room and searches for a lamp. It’s still too dark to see anything, but there’s nothing noticeably out of place. “I don’t think this is the room.”

"Otabek and his siblings don't know that." Yura’s expression has softened, but his opinion of Yuuri of course, hasn’t changed.

"I'm aware."

Scowling, Yura drops onto his knees and begins to search the floor for any sort of evidence while knowing all too well that they will find nothing. The bedroom is way too far away from the place Mr. Feltsman was found. This carpet reminds him of one that used to be in the Altin’s ballroom, back when their father was still alive. He still remembers the first time he saw Yuuri there, on that very carpet...

Yura first noticed then-Yuuri Altin at Otabek's older brother’s engagement party in the fall of 1919.

_He and Otabek were fifteen years old at the time and hadn't seen in each other for several months beforehand, so the boys planned on spending a week together._

_Otabek told his older sister of their plans as a way of asking for permission, but she redirected them to Yuuri; the awful, awful step-parent._

_It should've been Otabek's mother at the party, as she was the one that brought all these wonderful children to the family and attended most of her older children's ceremonies. She always threw the most extravagant of parties, too…_ _  
_ _A band was playing lively music and partners twirled around the dance floor together without a care in the world. Yuri hated parties of these sort; who came to someone else’s house just to dance? How boring._

_Clenching his fist at his side, Otabek led Yura across the ballroom in search of the parent. "I didn't know you had a stepmother," Yura said, struggling to get through the crowd of people._

_"It's not a mother, that's why." He murmured. "Just a timid little tries-too-hard-to-be-motherly young thing named Yuuri. He's only twenty one." The age really struck young Yuri as odd, but it wasn’t his place to say anything. Still, Otabek was his best friend. A little sly comment shouldn’t hurt anything, right?_

_"Wow really? Your dad must really like younger people, huh?"_

_"They don't love each other." Otabek corrected him, "Most of time time, they sleep in separate rooms. And they only got married so that Father would have someone to take care of us, and he'd be slightly less lonely. Still, he treats him like a child and they're pretty much always arguing. I can't stand him." He pauses in the center of the room, pointing towards a figure by the window. "That's him."_

_Yura did not like Yuuri from the moment he laid eyes on him. He was too skinny, his hair was too long, face too narrow, eyes too boring and lifeless. He didn’t even smile at his own stepson upon seeing him. "Well come on then, go ask him!"_

_When they approached Yuuri, it was clear to see that he was greatly upset about something. Yura had recalled Otabek’s father arguing with someone in the hallway at the beginning of the party over something minor, but hadn’t paid any attention to it. Still, that was hours ago. Why would he still be upset? Because he was pathetic, that’s why. He was wearing a very plain outfit; black slacks and a white, long sleeved shirt. No tie, no accessories. And when Otabek called his name, he looked ready to cry._

_Still, Yura had to admire how respectful Otabek was to his face._

_"Yuuri, may my friend Yura please stay for the week in the guest house? I haven't seen him in a long time, and we’ve been planning this for months. We won't cause any trouble."_

_Yuuri shrugged. "Whatever you want, dear."_

_"Where's Father? I should ask him too, right?”_

_At this, Yuuri very visibly flinched. "Oh, he's in the study with a few friends. Don't bother him tonight, okay? H-He's in a bad mood. I said your friend can stay.”_

_"Yes, sir,” Yura stifled a laugh._

_“I’m going back to my room now.” Yuuri said, turning his gaze to Yura for the first time. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Plisetsky. I hope you enjoy the rest of the night.”_

_Everyone knows what happens after that. It’s like a sick love story. Yuuri found himself unable to go upstairs and stormed out of the house into one of the gardens where he came across the most handsome and eligible bachelor in the United States, Viktor Nikiforov. They hit it off, obviously, and Yura recalled watching his cousin offer Yuuri a dance by the end of the night. Pathetic. He’d never forgive him for that._

_Yura had watched from the sidelines as Viktor led Yuuri through the dance; some traditional waltz that he knew all too well from countless dance lessons. His cousin was confident, and Yuuri was the exact opposite of that. His cheeks were pink and he couldn’t have looked more shy. Still, they continued to dance, song after song. Yura could judge that by the way Viktor looked, he was smitten. And Yuuri? Not even Otabek had seen him smile like that before._

_When the party ended, Yura began his walk across the yard to the little guesthouse. He was stopped upon noticing the two figures by his cousin’s car and had to investigate._

_“How will I ever see you again?” It was Yuuri, leant against Viktor’s car. “I- I mean, I’d like to see you, but… i-if you don’t…”_

_“Do you like going to the theatre?” Viktor’s voice is low as he attempts to romance a married man. Disgusting. “We could meet there sometime.”_

_“Alright… where do you live, Viktor?”_

_“Everywhere. I work in an office downtown right now. I’m an apprentice under a branch of Feltsman’s company, you’re familiar, aren’t you…?”_

_“Yes…?”_ _  
_ _“So, when you want to see a movie, come find me. It’s been a lovely night, Yuuri. I hope to see you again soon.”_

_Yura gagged, alerting Viktor of his location. “Yura! Do you need a ride home?”_

_“No, you stupid son of a bitch. Get out of here before Mr. Altin shoots you."_  

“Where do you suppose they’re keeping Mr. Feltsman’s body?” Yuuri jolts him out of his memory with his sudden dialogue. “I’d like to take a look at his body. Perhaps we could take a guess on what type of weapon was used. I think that’s better than all of us chasing our tails up here. Who knows when the police will arrive, or if they’re even coming?”

“So the ditz created his own hypothesis? W-o-w! How stupid can you be? Of course the police are coming. If any of us touch the body, we might damage the evidence, idiot. Go back to thinking about babies.”

Yuuri’s lips curl into a smile for a moment. “Okay. Then I guess I’m going on my own to find the body, then.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

Yuuri checks his reflection and smoothes the front of his costume. “I have my ways.”

* * *

 

“What do you suppose really happened tonight?” Chris and Georgi are exiting the servants’ quarters with another dead end regarding any leads to the investigation. It has only been a disappointing evening for both.

“I believe Yakov Feltsman was murdered.” Georgi replies, pausing in the hallway in front of the telephone, “I also believe we won’t know anything until it gets brighter in this dungeon. I recommend you calling your spouse and letting them know you won’t be home tonight. From the looks of it, we could all be in some deep trouble.”

“Wonderful! Just what I needed at a time like this.” Chris steps in front of the telephone. “What do I say? I’m a suspect for a murder?”  
  
“Whatever you want. I’m going back to the billiard room to wait for the others.”

Chris nods, turning away from him when he hears the phone click. “May I speak with the master of the household?” he says in the most regal voice possible.

“Christophe Giacometti, it’s very late. Where on earth are you? I worried you got into an accident.” His spouse of four years, Stefan, sounds exhausted.

“Ah, yes, I meant to be home. But you see, there’s been an incident at Feltsman’s house this evening.” He quickly glances around the seemingly empty hallways. “Do you suppose you could do me a huge favor? I’m in quite the situation.”

“What the hell did you do this time, Giacometti? I’m in nothing but my underwear and it’s pouring rain!”

Chris chuckles lightly, “As I want you to be, always! But seriously, can you please, please discreetly get here as soon as possible? I need an escape.”

“Will this get me arrested?”

“Nooooo… nobody will notice. I promise. Please, darling?”

Stefan lets out a long, dragged out sigh. “I’ll try to be there in an hour. Will that be alright?”  
  
“You’re an angel.”  
  
“You owe me big time, Chris. Be good.”

“And one more thing, dearest heart. I’m going to need a lawyer.

* * *

 

“Well, that didn’t go as expected whatsoever.” Yuuri grumbles as he wipes blood from the scrape on his cheek. “I’m usually better than this.”

“You did attempt to seduce a married servant.” Yura reminds him. “You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

“Yes, but what right did he have? His master could have him killed for- oh…” The servants didn’t have a master for the night. Who’s to say they couldn’t do whatever they wanted? Perhaps one of them truly had killed Feltsman, and maybe he was in for it next now that he’d ruffled one of their feathers. The thought of being dragged out into the rain and viciously stabbed, choked, shot, or having his brains bashed in didn’t sound comforting.

“Let’s go find some place to get you washed up before Viktor sees you like this,” Yura suggests, offering Yuuri his arm, “who knows what was on that man’s hand, or the last time he washed it.”

Yuuri hesitantly accepts, unsure why Viktor’s young cousin would show him any sort of kindness, “Say, Yura,” he looks down at him, “did you stumble upon any weapons tonight?" 

“Weapons? What do you mean?” The younger man squinted in the faint lighting.

“Well, while I was sick tonight, someone left a candlestick in the hallway and I tripped on it. I was just wondering if it was only me.”

“That’s queer,” Yura freezes in his tracks. “While I was wandering around looking for my dumb cousin, I left a champagne glass on one of the tables in the hallway. This is going to sound stupid, but there was a rope lying where my drink was by the time I returned. I didn’t know what to do with it, so I stuffed it into the closet by the washroom.”

“Are you serious? B-Because that’s where I…” _Maybe I should shut up,_ he tells himself, _after all, I don’t know who the killer is. It could even by Viktor himself. How do I know who to trust?_

“Yura, I know you dislike me, but do you honestly think I’m the one that killed Feltsman?”

“You?” His face scrunches up in disgust. “Of course not. You’re too weak to do it.”

“And what about Mr. Altin? I want you to know the truth about him, but first I need you to be honest with me.”

“Otabek thinks you did. That’s all I want to say.” They’re close to a kitchen now; Yuuri can smell the aftermath of the great feast he’d meant to enjoy earlier on in the night and his stomach grumbles in hunger- or nausea- so he doesn’t think too hard about searching for leftovers.

“You understand that it was an arranged marriage?” Yuuri lets go of his arm to get a better look at him, “He met me once at my late husband’s funeral. My second husband died over in Europe during the war, you see, and left me quite a bit of money. A young, filthy rich, pretty little thing like me shouldn’t have all that money to himself, right? And the truth is, Mr. Altin was losing money fast. He was worried he’d soon be out of work and how on earth would he provide for his nine children?” Yuuri bites his painted lip, looking away as he recalls the memory, “he didn’t give me a choice. My parents were no help. It was barely a month after my second husband died that I found myself in the Altin manor. I wanted to like it there, and I wanted the children to like me. But Otabek’s father and I… we simply were not compatible. He was egotistical and never saw the flaws in his way of thinking. If I ever made even the slightest suggestion, I was wrong and he made sure I knew it. He would… berate me in front of his friends and important guests, and they would laugh because they thought I was a ditsy servant.”

“Yuuri, I’m not sure how any of that is relevant.” Yura began, but he was soon cut off.

“Nobody ever loved me. Nobody ever treated me like I was human, just an item to be bargained and sold off to the next willing individual. I wanted so desperately for someone to see me for who I am and treat me like an adult, and I really, honestly, tried to make things work with Mr. Altin. I begged him to listen to me, to tell me what troubled him or to even just look at me. I think I wanted that the most.” He breathes in shakily, “But he missed his late wife, you know? I would never be able to live up to his dear Lucinda.”

“So you killed him.” Yura suggests. “To free yourself.”

“No. I fell in love with someone else for one sole reason.”

“And what would that be?”

“He looked at me.”

Yura scoffs. “How romantically anticlimactic.”

“Your cousin looked at me like I was a person, a respectable person who deserved time and attention. His feelings were genuine, I could sense it, and he told me he loved me before the first buds of spring.”

The younger doesn’t comment.

“And I couldn’t help loving him in return,” Yuuri continues, “So we planned to run away together. It was a night Mr. Altin wasn’t home, that’s how we planned it. I wrote a letter explaining myself after contemplating for over two hours on what I should do- fake my death, simply run away, or wait until he returned and tell him the truth? Viktor was no help, though. He stayed too long, and we were caught before I could make my decision. I really thought Mr. Altin was going to kill me that night.” Closing his eyes, he tries not to wince at the memory. “He took his revolver from his desk drawer and aimed it at me, first. Viktor stood in front of me in my defense, of course, but a bullet slipped right past my ear, grazing it. I probably should’ve died that night. I wish I did so I didn’t have to watch, but…” _Here it comes,_ “The telephone rang just then, and we were saved for a brief moment. It was devastating news. Mr. Altin lost his fortune. We’d been suspecting it for weeks, but to have it confirmed? It broke him. He ordered Viktor out of the room and… um, punished me for what I’d done. He left me on the floor of that bedroom and that was the last time I ever saw him alive. In the morning, a servant found him in his office. He hung himself.”

“W-What?” The teen’s eyes widen. “Otabek told me he was found in your bedroom. He said there was no way you didn’t- but- how?? I don’t understand.” There wasn’t a person in Washington who ever believed Yuuri was innocent of killing his husband for a lover. But this story made so much more sense, after all, none of the Altin children ever received inheritance from their father, only their mother’s. They presumed Yuuri took it from them, that was the story told. The one Yura himself had spread to numerous relatives when news of Viktor and Yuuri’s wedding came out. True, at the time he’d been understandably hurt for the sake of his friend and livid because who married someone like Yuuri into the Nikiforov family??? But now that he looked back, the situation could’ve been handled better.

“I just hope you’ll support me tonight, Yura. I don’t want to go to jail over something I didn’t do just because everyone thinks that’s my type of thing to do.” Yuuri wanders into the kitchen, delighted to find it empty. “I’m going to make myself some tea.”

“Yuuri, let me do it for you,” Yura insists, “You just sit down. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

_Now that you know you’re wrong, you’re going to pretend to care about me? How sweet!_

_“_ Um, what kind of tea do you want?”

“Do they have anything with ginger root? I’ve heard that helps nausea.” He presses a hand over his lower abdomen. _What if? Surely I must be dying._

“I’m not really a kitchen expert. I’ll keep looking though.” Yura steps into the pantry, rustling around in search of the requested ingredient. At this moment, Viktor and Mr. Leroy return from outside, drenched and appearing to be cross with each other. Viktor’s face brightens once he sees Yuuri, though, “There you are!”

“Viktor, you’re drenched!” Yuuri throws himself into Viktor’s arms, temporarily forgetting he’s still upset with him. “Sit by the fire, you idiot!”

Viktor pulls back far enough to press a kiss to Yuuri’s lips stubbornly, abruptly stopping when he sees the cut on Yuuri’s cheek. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Oh, this? It’s nothing. You should see the other guy.” He urges Viktor to sit down beside the large fireplace, resorting to sitting on his lap to calm him. He then explains the awkward situation of trying to seduce a servant into telling him what he knew. And it would’ve worked too, if only he’d tried a little harder. The servant only said that there seemed to be some discontent among the staff throughout the night, but wouldn’t give any details to Yuuri. He said he already gave his statement to Chris and Professor Popovich, so why should he tell any more? That was when Yuuri tried being a little flirtatious and got a fist to the face.

“Well, you tried.” Viktor shrugs. “Looks like you found out about as much as we did.”

“Which is just about nothing!” Mr. Leroy adds from the counter where he’s instructing Yura in preparing the tea. “I want whoever did this to burn in hell. I want to watch whoever did it suffer a painful death.’

“Simmer down there, Mr. Leroy,” Viktor glances up at him wearily as he hands Yuuri a hot cup of tea. “What’s that?”

“Yuuri wanted something ginger to help with the nausea.” Yura explains, taking a seat beside the couple. He has a cup in his hands as well, but he doesn’t look interested in drinking it. “But Mr. Leroy seems to be an expert in the kitchen, so he helped me.”

Yuuri inhales it slowly, smile plastered onto his face. “It smells just about right. A little sweeter than I remember, but I needed this…” he prepares to take a sip without another thought, inhaling it once again because...

The room is peaceful until that moment. Mr. Leroy has just began a conversation with Yura and Viktor, suddenly halted when Yuuri’s tea cup clatters against the bricks below him, rolling across the floor.

“So what, the tea isn’t good enough for you so you’re going to sulk?” He chuckles, poking Yuuri’s arm. He’s currently leant against Viktor’s shoulder, face hidden. He seems to be much more slumped over than he last recalled.

Viktor senses something Yura could not, and lifts Yuuri by the shoulder to look at him. “Yuuri...? Yuuri!" Yuuri is not responding; something is wrong... "What was in that tea?! What the fuck was in that tea??” He begins lightly shaking Yuuri to try and wake him up. It’s not working. His eyes are closed and his face is the color of Yura's suit. It all happened so suddenly!

“I- I don’t know, I just followed the instructions!” Yura’s hands tremble as he nearly dips his nose in the tea. “I’ll… I’ll drink it too and see if…” He feels dizzy as a warning for a good three seconds before falling unconscious alongside Yuuri. 

"What is going on?? Help!"

“I… think the tea’s been poisoned…” Mr. Leroy says quietly from his place at the counter, refusing to move. “How awful! What a scene!”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hOoOoOoOoO
> 
> I was going to add a lengthy fistfight at the end of the chapter, but I think I'll save that for next time. I know we've all been through a lot in this little chapter.
> 
> Next time: "You've really got to stop getting yourself into fistfights, Viktor. I mean, honestly, what did you THINK was going to happen?"


	4. Chapter Three: The Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything's turned into quite a mess, really. Yuuri doesn't know what he wants or how this seemingly impossible case can be solved, but it appears he's the only one in the house who actually wants to solve it. What does that say about the innocence of the other house guests?
> 
> AKA the chapter where Yuuri completely slays everyone's existence.

At the initial moment of the poisoning of both Yuuri Nikiforov and Yuri Plisetsky, the room had an odd, serene feel to it. Viktor felt as if the entire world had stopped moving, that everyone had disappeared and it was just him and Yuuri’s quite possibly dying body. Yet, he still thought he could hear something, though it sounded as if it were underwater. It didn’t matter anyway. Only Yuuri did. Yuuri wasn’t waking up. His breaths were shallow. Viktor didn’t know what to do.

And then someone touches his shoulder.

“Viktor, you need to put him down so the professor can get a look at him.” _Who said that?_ “Viktor, please. You trust him, don’t you?” Oh, it’s Chris, isn’t it? He can see the cuffs of his golden party suit. “I’m your oldest friend. I wouldn’t ask you to do this unless I was certain everything would be okay.”

Viktor nods, yet when Yuuri’s nearly taken from him, he tightens his grip. “If- if someone wants to see him… they can… they can do it right here.” He says dazedly. “I’m not letting go.” 

Georgi and Chris exchange looks, but there’s no protest. Nobody’s stupid enough to, well, that is, except for…

“Your faux affections are sickening sometimes, Viktor. Cut the act and give him to the doctor.”

Georgi’s already knelt beside Yuuri, slipping on his glasses. “Actually, I’m not a doctor.”

Viktor looks up sharply. “What did you say?”

And Georgi believes he’s being spoken to, and repeats himself. “I’m… not a doctor? You know that, I’m just a…”

“Not you, the bastard up there!” He glares back at Mr. Leroy. “Say something like that again, Leroy, and I swear to God I’ll kick your ass.”

Mr. Leroy grins, something teasing and not at all serious. “Calm yourself. You’ll startle the sickly little girl.”

“Viktor, don’t respond to him,” Georgi says quietly after taking Yuuri’s pulse. “it’s… it’s very faint.”

“W-Well, _do_ something! Fix him!” Viktor exclaims, rising to his feet with Yuuri still in his arms. “Call a doctor, or tell me how to rid him of the poison, _please just do something_!”

“Viktor, shut _up_! I’m going to do everything I can! I just don’t know what poisoned him, and I’m just a professor, the hell do I know?!” Georgi shot back, causing Mr. Leroy to chuckle.

“I was a medic in the Great War,” he says, “let me see him.”

“Go to _hell_.” Is Viktor’s obvious response.

“No, no, really, I was. I can do more to help him than this professor.” Mr. Leroy assures, “Set him on the counter so I can get a closer look.”

God knows why Viktor decides to trust him. Perhaps it’s how desperate he is to get Yuuri conscious again, but he lays him on the counter as instructed and shifts over to allow Mr. Leroy some space.

But looking at Yuuri’s body lying across the table, Viktor feels even worse. He looks lifeless, so lifeless that Viktor has to zone in on the faint movement of his chest to reassure himself. It is then he’s reminded that Yuuri isn’t the only victim, and…. “Oh my god, we forgot about Yura.”

But his young cousin is already coming to, grumbling about one hell of a headache. He’s propped up beside the fireplace, being tended to by the professor. _I guess it was just me who forgot him…_

Yuri doesn’t seem to mind his neglect, he’s also pretty concerned about the still unconscious Yuuri Katsuki.  
When he turns around, he really doesn’t like the way Mr. Leroy is looking at Yuuri.

“He must’ve drank some.” Mr. Leroy says, “If Yuri’s up already, and he only inhaled it, then this one’s done for. I think it’s too late. It’s a real shame. I’m sorry.” He doesn’t look sorry. He’s just _sitting there_ while Yuuri could be _dying_ and he’s doing _nothing_.

Viktor sees red. Nobody is prepared for what happens next… 

He pushes Mr. Leroy out of the way to get to Yuuri’s body, and seemingly appears to not care of him at all as he yanks the unconscious body into a sitting position. Yuuri’s head is tipped backwards, mouth hanging open only slightly. He looks at him for only a moment before shoving a finger to the back of his throat, praying- _praying-_ that it’ll work…

Thankfully, Yuuri gets sick just about immediately, which could also be due to his continuing nausea. He groans softly, but his eyes fail to open. Viktor isn’t patient though, not in his current state.

He then takes the pitcher of water that’d been set aside earlier on and dumps it onto Yuuri’s head as a final attempt.

Yuuri’s eyes shoot open with a gasp, and within a second he’s coughing uncontrollably, but Viktor feels satisfied at the success of his evasive action that actually saved Yuuri's life, it would seem. He’s okay, he’s alive. And… crying? “Viktor, why did you… Viktor…” He barely manages to speak in between gags and coughs. He’s still pale, and now appears to be too shocked to process what’s going on.

“Wow, nice going, Viktor.” Mr. Leroy, of course, butts in. “And here I thought I was the trained medical help, not you!”

“Somebody get him a towel, Jesus,” Yura says to the others, “Viktor may be a fucking idiot for doing this, but we can’t let Yuuri freeze.”

“I already told you, Leroy, if you don’t stay the fuck away I’m going to kick your ass…” Viktor warns, barely acknowledging Yuuri’s desperate grip on his sleeve from the counter. “You’d better leave.”

“Why, because you think I’m scared of you? You want a fight or something, pretty boy? I would, but I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your little girlfriend.” He makes yet another derogatory comment in Yuuri’s direction, causing Viktor to clench his fist.

“V-Viktor, please…” Yuuri repeats. “Just leave him alone, this isn’t his fault…” He sighs when Viktor frees himself of Yuuri’s grip to pursue Mr. Leroy. “You know what? You’re a dick.”

“At least I have one.”

Viktor abruptly tugs Yuuri down from the table. And Yuuri, who isn’t entirely stable yet, would have fallen over had it not been for Georgi’s sudden intervention and catch. “Take _him_ someplace else. He doesn’t have to see the punishment we give around here for poisoning someone’s tea." 

“Oh, yes, Georgi _please take him_ ,” Mr. Leroy adds. Yuuri’s vision is swirling. “God forbid that pussy having to see a meaningless fight that he’s too weak to finish himself. Dying from poisoned tea, really?”

* * *

 

Yuuri shakily raises a glass of water to his lips and takes several big gulps as an extra precaution. He doesn’t think he swallowed any of the tea, but he could have. He just doesn’t remember. With how long he was out, it’s likely.

“How do you feel?” Professor Popovich has just taken his vitals, all normal. His skin isn’t pale anymore. Physically, he’s in perfect shape. He sees no reason why Yuuri should be resting; he isn’t showing any signs of being poisoned. Still… something’s off, and he can’t tell what it is, because he’s only a professor of psychiatry, not a physician. They’re sitting in the library currently, and now Georgi is searching for a medical book on one of the many large shelves that seem to cover every topic except the one he’s been looking for. It’s dimly lit with a spooky vibe to it and no matter how close Yuuri sits to the fireplace, he can’t stop the chills that run down his spine.

“Regarding the tea? Nothing that I haven’t been feeling all night minus being completely drenched right now. Do you suppose I would’ve died by now if I had drank it?” That’s the question that keeps pestering Yuuri’s mind, the what-if’s, and if Viktor would have cared at all if he had perished.

“Most likely. We’re leaving the tea to be inspected by the police. I feel like if I get too close to it, I might faint as well.” Georgi smiles shyly. “I think it was chloroform, but what do I know? Your husband might kill me if I don’t figure it out though. He was quite upset."

“Oh?” Yuuri frowns, “Well, if he is upset- why isn’t he here?” Viktor seemed more interested in fighting Mr. Leroy the last time he lost consciousness. If he really cared, their petty little fight wouldn’t have mattered. There’s something strange about Viktor tonight, and Yuuri doesn’t want to think about what might’ve happened to make him act in such a way.

“He’s fighting with the others over you. Somebody- and I’m not naming anyone- made an awful comment about you after you went out again. Viktor was literally cradling you in his arms when it was said, and he lost it.”

“R-Really? Over me?” He feels more embarrassed than he does delighted. “I always cause such a scene. I want to go home so badly and never show my face again.”

“Now, now, Yuuri, this isn’t the time to get upset.” Georgi pulls up a chair. “You said you were having other symptoms tonight. Please share.”

Yuuri props himself up on one of the pillows and meets the other man’s eyes. “Professor Popovich, I…”

“Please, just call me Georgi.” He interrupts. “We’ve known each other for years now, haven’t we? Now go on.”

“B-But it’s personal…” What’s the point of protesting? Everyone knows Yuuri’s been sick. He sighs. “I’d really rather not share anything right now.”

“Do you know if you’re, you know, expecting?” Georgi’s face is as flushed as Yuuri’s, and both are looking anywhere but each other. That is, until Georgi hears Yuuri stand.

“I- I get so tired of getting asked that, Georgi…” Yuuri sniffles, defiantly looking away. “Because I _know_ the answer and it’s really nobody’s business.”

“I’m… sorry, Yuuri, I didn’t…”

“Do you know how desperately I want everyone to leave Viktor and I alone about that personal of a situation? Maybe, maybe, it’d finally shut people up about me only using Viktor for his money if I was, but how does it concern you what we do? Georgi, I can’t stand the weight of that pressure on my shoulders.” Yuuri presses the pillow to his face. “I just want to go home.”

“Then why don’t you, Yuuri?” Georgi says sharply. “I’ve been defending your name all night, but if you want to make yourself more suspicious looking than you’ve already done, be my guest. I could go distract them for you.”

Yuuri stares at him wide-eyed,catching sight of his reflection in the mirror opposite of him. Mascara runs down his cheeks from getting drenched, and he looks like a dead circus clown.  
  
“Well, surely, you have a very good reason to want to leave, right? Killing a man and hiding all the evidence must be exhausting.” Georgi folds his arms over his chest. “You aren’t fooling me with that fake-sickness act, and you aren’t fooling anyone else, either.”

“I’m not faking it!” Yuuri exclaims, “I feel like I’m dying, okay!?”

“Well that’s because you’re having a baby, goddamnit!” Georgi shouts back at him. “The nausea will pass, but that baby will never see the light of fucking day if you get tried for murder, Yuuri! Do you know what kind of sentencing you’ll get? Death! You’ll be hung for this-”  
“ _I didn’t do it, Georgi!_ ” At this point, Yuuri and the professor are being so loud that it’s a wonder the neighbors haven’t called the police yet. “And to prove that I’m innocent, I’ll stay…” he lowers his voice, hugging his stomach. “And I’ll find the killer, even though I’m probably in the same room as him right now.” He realizes now that Georgi may have been using reverse psychology on him to get him to stay, and goddamnit, it worked. But still, if he goes home, things would probably get worse. He’s going to see this through whether he likes it or not and clear his name. 

“Are you suggesting it was _I_ that killed Mr. Feltsman tonight?” Georgi asks, astounded.

“Everyone’s a suspect. What defense do you have? How could I know if you’re innocent?”

Yuuri carefully walks over to the mirror above the fireplace. He needs to touch up his face before he lets anyone else see him, that’s certain. “Everyone always assumes it's me that's the bad one, I'm the cheater, the killer, the wicked, sinful whore, right? But then they don't bother sparing a glance at the man I share a bed with and what he’s done.”

“I want to believe everyone here is innocent, but we know that isn’t the case.” Georgi offers him his handkerchief, to which Yuuri makes good use of. He dabs under his eyes, removing the stains. “No man dares speak poorly of Viktor. They all love him, Yuuri. Shouldn’t they?”

“Yes, but everyone also talks about the affairs Viktor has. How he sees a different man or woman almost every night? How he hides his first marriage from the public because it was too embarrassing to admit to? Why does he get hailed as a saint and excused for his adultery, when I can't even dance with someone at a fucking ball without being shamed?” Yuuri focuses on his reflection, pressing his lips together to spread the brighter red color. “I’ve been faithful to him for two years. I’ve devoted everything I am to him. Why can’t anyone see that?”

“Is he cruel to you, at home?”

“N-No… he gives me anything I ask for. Treats me like royalty, and he’s always been good to me. But still, sometimes I feel so alone-”

“Then perhaps you should be quiet about it. It's hard for him, you know, taking in someone with such a shameful record. You should be thankful he treats you with any kindness at all.”

Yuuri's chest heaves. He'd hoped so desperately that Georgi would understand, and now? Someone must've told him some wild story that changed his view on Yuuri. But who, and why? They'd always been such good friends. He feels betrayed.

“I'm glad you’re a marriage expert, Professor.” He smiles sadly. “You know just what a guy needs to hear, don't you? I bet your ex thought the same thing.”

Georgi hasn't spoken. He sinks his head, shoulders slumped, and stares at an opened book on the table. His mother, bless her poor soul, was in a similar situation to Yuuri many years ago. She was a servant girl who had an affair with his then-married father, and when she got pregnant, he had no choice but to marry her, though he treated her wickedly and she died before Georgi’s fifth birthday. Everyone judged her and she couldn’t show her face due to the terrible shame she had to carry. And his father? Well, he never truly defended her. He wanted a divorce, too, and planned on doing it quietly just before she died.

“I love Viktor. I always have. I've done everything I possibly could to keep our marriage strong and fulfilling, but I guess I'm not enough. It's okay. We're going to get a divorce, and everyone will be satisfied. I'll… make myself disappear.” That’s what his mother said, too…

“Now that statement surprised me, Yuuri,” Georgi begins in an attempt to cheer Yuuri up, “your man loves you more than I have ever seen another human love. The way he held you on that kitchen floor doesn't say divorce to me. It says a long lasting, happy and fruitful marriage.”

“Get out.”

“I-I'm sorry, what?”

“I said _get out_ !” Yuuri tosses a book at him, successfully chasing Georgi from the room. “The hell do you know about a fruitful or happy marriage?!” He calls after him with no response. _Viktor and I may love each other, but we have deeply rooted issues. I want to work them out, but… tonight is not the time._

He sighs, resting on one of the large chairs by the fire to peer at the books Georgi had been browsing. **First Aid Instructional Guide and Additional Advice by Dr. Morris A. Fowler** \- a helpful read, but not interesting enough for Yuuri. No, what he really needs is… **Wounds- Identification, Treatment, and Aftercare by Harold B. Cutt** \- he’s not injured, so… **The Child-Rearing Years; What To Expect During Parenthood by Dr. Clarice V. Obvi.** Should he?

He opens the book and skims through the first several pages; the usual things that he already knows, but he notices that a few pages have been ripped out. To be precise, pages 17-25. What was on those pages that had to be hidden from anyone? And what kind of person censored their own library? Maybe he’s going on a whim, but… he decides to pick up the first aid book and quickly thumbs to where page seventeen should be, and again, finds it missing. The pages are gone. He goes to the table of contents, and shockingly finds that chapter to have been on…

Gunshot wounds? Interesting.

He picks up the third book on wounds, once again to find the ripped pages. Whoever did this did not want anyone knowing how to heal gunshot wounds.  

Yuuri crouches in front of the fire and squints carefully at the surrounding ash. To his surprise, he finds the corner of a paper scrunched up at the very back of it, and that’s enough for him to go on. Someone knew Yuuri well enough to assume he’d pick up the baby book and find the missing pages. He was supposed to find out.

Removing the sleeves from the gown, he pushes himself up. _It’s time to solve this._

He knows he'll be able to identify what type of wound Yakov had as soon as he sees him, he just needs an opportunity. His second husband drilled him in the different types of wounds and how to heal each one until it was permanently stuck there. Once he knew the type of injury, he could solve the case quicker than any detective could, though he’s already certain he knows it was a gunshot. But who ripped the pages? Did Georgi really kill Yakov? It is becoming more and more likely.

Now, where to begin? He needs to find Yakov’s body first. The servants were all incredibly defensive about it earlier when his friends themselves tried being defensive, so perhaps Yuuri could try being more… vulnerable? Yuuri pinches his arm until he can work up enough tears while on his way to the servants’ quarters by the cellar door. To his luck, the maid and the cook are nearby, talking quietly amongst themselves. They stop upon seeing Yuuri.

_This is your only chance, Yuuri…_

He bows his head, pressing a hand to his lips as he stifles a fake sob- which actually sounds rather convincing- and rests against the wall nearby, pretending he didn’t see the girls. When he slides down the wall (and the crying he’s doing is hardly fake now that he’s gotten into it), one of them approaches him.

“Sir… is something the matter?”

Yuuri looks up at her pitifully, sniffling for effect. “I’m trying to get away from him.”

“Who, sir?” She’s the cook. Long, dark hair and purple eyes, but something about her scares him, though he wants to believe she’s friendly.

“My husband…” Yuuri whines. “He’s upset with me. We’ve gotten into a fight and I don’t want to see him. Please, is there any place I can hide?”

The cook exchanges glances with the maid, who merely shrugs. “Um… the cellar steps are a good place. But they’re keeping the master there, so I presume that might scare you, sir.”

“I-I think that’s a good place…” He wipes his eyes. _Finally_. “If you see him, please don’t tell him where I am. I want to be left alone.” She doesn’t reply, so Yuuri makes his way to the cellar door. It’s dark down there, with not even a bit of light to be seen from where he stands. He can’t be afraid. Surely there’s some light at the bottom of the steps! 

So he starts walking down, reminding himself why he’s doing this and that it’ll all work out. _If I solve the mystery I can go home alive. That’s all I want._

As soon as he reaches the bottom step, the door swings shut, and all the light is gone.

* * *

 

Just so we’re clear, Viktor didn’t have previous “beef” with Mr. Leroy. Their rivalry sprouted the moment Viktor saw how he danced with Yuuri and continued once the body was found. Perhaps Mr. Leroy wasn’t inherently a bad person, but he sure knew how to fuel a fire and never backed down from an argument. His favorite insults included ones that were regarding gender, genital size, or brain capacity. But when he dared to admit he knew something was up with the tea, Viktor lost it and threw a punch at the other man’s jaw.

Mr. Leroy was as good an insulter as a fighter. He blocked each of Viktor’s punches and matched them with some of his own, which Viktor almost always deflected.

It is a rather uninteresting fight to watch, because no one seems to be winning. Chris has grown tired of trying to stop them, and poor Yura just wants to get some rest after nearly being poisoned. Still, someone has to break up the fight, eventually…

“Hey, dumbass, you haven’t even checked on Yuuri,” Yura calls over the ruckus, “he could be dead. Don’t you think he’s worth stopping the fight over?”

“This is _for_ Yuuri!” Viktor grunts as he kicks Mr. Leroy off of him. Somehow they’ve ended up on the ground, and it’s then that Viktor realizes he just might be losing.

“Well you’re doing a fucking great job, sweetie,” Chris claps loudly, “You’ll go to him completely bruised and bloody, saying, ‘Hi, honey, I got my ass kicked to prove I’m not weak even though you told me not to and failed miserably! Aren’t you proud?’ Just drop it, Viktor.”

“Viktor’s a stuck up, arrogant piece of shit. This isn’t about Yuuri anymore,” Yura says, “it’s about his pride. Pathetic, right?”

“ _Shut up_!” Viktor shouts. He’s losing, so terribly losing…

Chris smiles at the younger boy. “You suppose Yuuri will be impressed with JJ’s fighting skills and go to him instead? He wants a _real man_ who can protect him from casanovas like JJ here, right? Not some coward who can’t even throw a good insult.”

“I am _not_ a coward.” Viktor replies, struggling to pull himself to his feet despite the constant nag that is JJ kicking at his ribs. “And I _can protect_ him.”

At this, Mr. Leroy laughs, pausing from the total beatdown he’d been giving Viktor. “Yeah? Then how’d he get poisoned while he was sitting on your lap, huh? And when he sat there begging for you to stop the fight, you pushed him onto someone else. You’re no protector. You’re weaker than he is.”

Viktor is _frustrated,_ because the hell does Mr. Leroy know about how he protects Yuuri? He’s done countless brave things for him, all of which these people would never know. But if they did, man… he has to win this fight.

If Yuuri was watching, he’d have won already. Where is he? He could be in pain, he probably--- _crack._ Viktor got slammed into the brick wall, so hard he believes his shoulder dislocates. He’s on the ground again.

He’s lost.

* * *

 

 _“You’ve called at such a late hour, Mr. Altin, so I do hope this is an emergency,” Georgi Popovich was on the other end of the line. It was ten-thirty at night, and he’d just gotten home from university with quite the migraine. Mr. Altin called him a lot at home, so at this point, he just assumed it was him considering he had no other friends or relatives who would bother to call._ __  
_“Not that Mr. Altin. Um.. hi. It’s… I know it’s late. I’m sorry, but… I need advice.” Says a shaky voice on the other end of the line._  
“Who is this?”

_“Oh, it’s Yuuri… Yuuri Altin. Again, I’m really sorry I called, but I couldn’t think of anyone else to talk to. I don’t know what to do.” Ah, now he recognized the voice. He’d visited the Altin’s a few times, and for some reason the timid being known as Yuuri always stuck out to him._

_“It’s… it’s okay. What can I do for you this evening?” And why the hell did you think of calling me of all people, he almost adds._  

_“I think there’s something wrong with me.” Yuuri says after a moment. “You’re a professor of psychiatry, right? Perhaps you can help me before it’s too late.”_

_“Yuuri, are you at home right now? We really shouldn’t be discussing this over the phone.” Plus, Georgi’s tired. He can’t even see straight._

_“You’re right, you’re right. Can I stop by your office tomorrow, please?”_

_“Certainly. Please try to get some rest until then, alright?”_

_Yuuri hung up the phone, exhaling sharply. He didn’t think he could wait until the following day to talk to someone about his growing problem, but did he really have a choice?_ _  
_ _So he went to his room and got in bed, but sleep escaped him. He just couldn’t stop thinking about… him._

_That unfairly beautiful, sweet, understanding, gentleman he’d been so lucky as to meet all those weeks ago, and now…_

_~~~_

_“Mr. Popovich, I’m terribly sorry to bother you during your work hours, but I have to talk to you about something.” The following day, Georgi was visited by two Altins with far different intentions than the other at two separate times. Yuuri was first, coming to his office at eight thirty, and now, Mr. Altin himself arrived just two hours later. Georgi was panicked at what he’d heard so far…_

_“Ah, sure, what’s the issue, Mr. Altin? Have a seat.” Why were his hands shaking? He didn’t have to tell Mr. Altin anything, after all…_

_“Thank you,” he sat across from him and lit a cigar. “Please, do tell me: was Yuuri here this morning?”_

_Georgi’s eyes widened- crap- and he cleared his throat. “Why, yes he was, sir. Is that a problem?”_

_“It’s becoming one,” he says, “you see, Yuuri’s been acting strange since that party last fall, and he thinks I haven’t noticed, but obviously I have. Now of course, I don’t care whether he lives or dies, but if what he’s up to interferes with his marriage vow, I have to take action. So, tell me. What was your little chat about this morning?”_  

_Georgi Popovich may be incredibly intelligent, but he’s a terrible liar. And at that moment, because he somewhat cared about Yuuri, he didn’t want to put him in any danger. But how could he lie to someone who intimidated him so much?_

_His only mistakeful solution was to stretch the truth. “Yuuri is… well… he was looking for someone to confide in about personal issues, so I complied. I’m not sure it would be right to tell you.”_

_This caused the older man to scowl. “What do you mean? I married the brat, didn’t I? I have a right to know.”_

_“Yes, but… c-confidentiality and…”_

_“Georgi, I’m not asking anymore.”_

_“Yuuri’s lonely.” He blurted without another thought. That didn’t expose Yuuri, did it? And besides, it was true. “He hates how you treat him like a child and wants to be taken seriously.”_

_Mr. Altin didn’t even blink. “And that’s all?”_

_“That’s all, sir.”_

_“Well, then I’m sorry for disturbing you. I just thought… never mind what I thought. I need to find where he’s run off to today. Thank you, Mr. Popovich.”_

_When the office door clicked shut, Georgi rested his face on his desk. He knew where Yuuri was; he had another date scheduled with Viktor for that very morning and begged Georgi to keep it a secret. “Yuuri Altin, you cause everyone a whole lot of trouble,” he says to himself, “but for some reason, no one wants to stay away.” He hesitates, then rushes after Mr. Altin down the hall. “Sir, wait! Wait! There’s one more thing. Yuuri… he’s been seeing a young man behind your back. His name is Viktor. I’m sorry.”_

* * *

 

Yuuri gave up trying to pry the cellar door open and decided that he’d have to face his fear of dark basements and well, dead bodies. It is cold at the bottom of the steps, and he regrets removing his sleeves earlier on. It wouldn’t have helped anyway, not with his costume still being rather soaked from the little bath he’d been given on the kitchen counter. That was really insensitive of Viktor to do, not to mention embarrassing. Sigh… he must have looked so ridiculous. 

Rubbing his arms, Yuuri slips his right hand down his left glove sleeve and blindly feels around for the tiny pocket on the inside, retrieving an even smaller lighter from it. “Ah, thank God…” Switching the lighter, he’s given a very dim view of the room and finds an old candlestick propped against the wall. It’s heavy, but it’s better than being in the darkness all by himself. Now, where’s the body…

Overhead and maybe just down the hall, he hears something banging around and startles himself by backing into the dirt wall beside him. Well, his hand is pressed against the dirt wall, his back is on something that feels more like a…

_He’s right behind me, isn’t he?_

Yuuri knows he doesn’t have to turn around to see, and he doesn’t want to see, but he has to. Sucking in a deep breath, he turns around and finally gets full exposure to Feltsman’s corpse. “Oh, I think I’m going to be sick again…” He feels dizzy- the blood, the coloring, the… “Gunshot. It’s a gunshot.” He says quickly, daring to touch over the gaping hole in Feltsman’s chest. It’s a perfect circle the size of a bullet. He has no doubt in his mind that Feltsman was shot, but how, especially without someone hearing it?

He tries to open up the suit, which is a mistake-- for all of the sudden, the body falls from the wall and directly on top of Yuuri. “Ah, _shit_ !” The wind’s knocked out of him from the sudden weight, and for a moment, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to get himself standing. The deadweight is _so fucking heavy_ , and it _hurts._

Yuuri kicks at the corpse, trying as hard as he can to scoot backwards. The gown is tearing from his struggle, but finally he is able to free himself. All he manages to do for a little while is lay on the ground, panting. Why did he come down here again? “Gunshot… gunshot wound. Have to find the gun…”

Wincing, he drags himself into a standing position, takes the candlestick, and slowly climbs the stairs. The door is obviously locked. But Yuuri’s tired. He’s dealt with enough shit tonight to last a lifetime. He takes the butt of the candlestick and jams it against the door in a stabbing motion close to seventeen times before it bursts open. 

_Now, on to find those stupid boys…_

Just as suspected, everyone’s still in the kitchen. But what they’re doing? It infuriates him. Viktor’s laid against the wall, and Mr. Leroy is just having a day making sure Viktor gets every rib bruised and be in as much pain as possible until he swallows his pride and surrenders. But that’s the thing. Viktor won’t. He’s too proud. And the others? They’re just watching this pointless assault, never interfering and actually looking like they enjoy it.

Yuuri wants to stab Mr. Leroy, perhaps bash his head in, anything to put that bastard son of a bitch in his place. It’s one thing to defend oneself. It’s another to humiliate and injure another just for show; a pointless fight that never needed to happen…

Yuuri’s still clutching the candlestick, and he acts without thinking. With one skilled swing, he knocks Mr. Leroy from his feet. “ _Fuck off_.”

The man falls hard, and is quite surprised to find such an unlikely person in a torn gown to be standing over him defensively. Mr. Leroy lifts his hands as a sign he wouldn’t fight back, and Yuuri lowers the weapon, kneeling by Viktor. “You’re so stupid. What were you thinking, fighting someone over something as unimportant as me?” He whispers against his now bruised face, pressing his cheek against Viktor’s. “You know you can’t fight back once your down, your back won’t let you, dumbass.” He hugs him carefully. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“Yes, behind you-” he barely manages to get out before Yuuri swiftly turns and strikes a punch at the center of Mr. Leroy’s face, causing the other men in the room to cheer at Yuuri’s unprecedented victory when he doesn’t get up.

Yuuri bites his lip, letting himself look away from Viktor’s injuries. “You’re all ignorant and don’t seem to give a damn about anything. I can’t tell if you’re drunk or really don’t care, but you should know I went into the basement and found Feltsman’s body. You can argue with me, but I’m certain it’s a gunshot wound, so please make yourselves useful and search for the weapon. As for me, I’m taking Viktor someplace to assess the damage from you all’s dumbass boxing match, and if you please, I’d like some privacy. Anyone protests and you end up like Mr. Leroy over here; he’ll be seeing stars for a week. Questions?”

Viktor gazes up at him innocently with a slightly crooked smile. “You’re so hot.”  

Yuuri blushes unashamed, and says, “That’s a factual statement, Viktor. Not a question. Get to work, all of you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.) I had a very long debate with myself regarding who would win the fight and also, whether or not I should post this chapter or the following one first. I flipped a coin, Chihoko flipped a coin, and this one won. I hope you liked it.
> 
> 2.) Viktor loves Yuuri, I promise. He's just... in a panicked state currently and doesn't know how to be a decent human being.
> 
> 3.) I'm sorry it took so long to update! I got sick... twice, ended up having a hellish weekend involving orangutans and awkward family moments, but I should be back to my normal-ish schedule!
> 
> NEXT TIME: It's all Viktor and Yuuri. Call it a filler, call it fan service, but bro- it's time for the ship to sail and Yuuri will learn the truth behind the dreaded "Divorce", as well as solving another mystery that he's been questioning all night...


	5. Chapter Four: The Lounge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor and Yuuri take refuge in the lounge.  
> Two big secrets are revealed that change everything.

Viktor can’t lie, he likes being taken care of as much as he likes being the one to do the caring, but right now, all he feels is a burning annoyance every time Yuuri attempts to poke at the cut on his jaw, or even spare a glance at the bruises because he’s ashamed. He should have won the fight, hands down. He was fighting for Yuuri, wasn’t he?

Now that he thought about it, he really wasn’t after a while. He was fighting to defend his own honor and pride and hadn’t even thought about Yuuri’s well being during it. He feels awful…

“Hold still, Viktor,” Yuuri says softly, dipping the cloth in a small pitcher of water again. He then dabs it against Viktor’s cut, biting his lip. “He could’ve killed you.”

“What makes you think he would?”

Yuuri sits back for a moment. “Can we really trust anyone right now? Honestly, Viktor… if you weren’t hurt I’d be very angry with you.”

“You still are.”

“... I know.”

Viktor looks like a sad puppy; head bowed and lips pulled into an adorable pout. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you.”

“You didn’t embarrass me, you scared me. Now hush and hold still.” Viktor complies for a solid two seconds before gently swatting Yuuri’s hand away and facing the opposite direction. “Viktor Nikiforov!”

"I’m fine!”

Yuuri opens his mouth to speak, but he quickly shuts up when he can’t think of the right thing to say. Sigh… this is frustrating. He stands, slipping the gown from his shoulders and stepping out of it.

"..Yuuri…?”

“This is still wet from earlier. I’m setting it on the radiator to dry.” He looks around the lounge they’ve taken refuge in; it’s a nice little room with ultimate privacy, perfect for spontaneous rendezvous or, you know, fighting with your husband. There isn’t much furniture or any view, but the couch is sizable and the radiator emits decent heat, so he can’t complain much. After a moment, he returns to the couch. “I think we should rest here for the night.”

“We?” Viktor’s had his eyes closed up until now, as if he was bashful about seeing Yuuri in his underwear. “I thought you were angry at me. You shouldn’t want to be in here with me at all.”

“For better or for worse, right?” Yuuri scoffs. “I’m going to stay with you, mostly because I don’t trust any of the others as far as I can throw them, and secondly because I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“Worried I’ll get into more trouble, huh?” Viktor attempts to stand, hissing in pain upon doing so. Yuuri rushes to his side and helps him sit back down.

“Wait until the aspirin kicks in, dear. I-I mean, Viktor.” _Did I really just… wait, why am I doing this anyway? I should be kind to him. He’s still my husband. And he’s taken care of me when I was hurt, so…_ “I suppose I want to tell you that I’m sorry for how cross I am, but as you can probably imagine, I’ve been feeling rather terribly this evening and it’s kind of hard to solve a murder while your insides are turning inside out.”

“Yeah… I’ve been meaning to ask you about that.” Viktor says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Why don’t you sit down? You’re probably the one that should be doing the resting, not me. I’ve been hurt worse.”

"So have I.” He sits down anyway, accidentally leaning into Viktor’s good arm. “Will you tell me something? Why are we doing this?”

“Doing what, Yuuri?”

"Playing this game. I know you have to love me as much as I love you, and yet we sleep separately. We’re divorcing. We act so distantly in public, and yet sometimes so passionate in private. Why?”

“I wanted to give you your own room so that you’d have a place to go when you’d like to be alone. Is that wrong?” Viktor slips an arm around Yuuri’s middle. It feels natural now that it’s just the two of them.

"Of course it isn’t wrong, but I was excited to— you know, actually have a loving marriage bed. I couldn’t bring myself to just ask if you’d let me sleep in your room sometimes. It felt awkward.”

“Oh come on, Yuuri, you’re acting like we never slept together. That’s bullshit, there. I’m in your room every single day.” Viktor squeezes his arm, shutting his eyes once again as if he's tired.

"Yes, but…” How can Yuuri put this delicately? “Having sex with me and then leaving after I fall asleep doesn’t really count. I want to actually sleep with you. Every night, not just sometimes.” He knows he’s blushing, but he doesn’t care. It’s something he actually wants, and it shouldn’t be something to be ashamed of. They’re married, after all, aren’t they?

"Okay, so starting tonight you really want to sleep next to my annoying self every single night for the rest of our marriage?”  
That won’t be very long, now will it?

“Yes. But where do you want me to go after the divorce?” He sits up stiffly. “Viktor?”

“How could you think I want to divorce you, Yuuri? That’s kind of impossible. We can’t get divorced…” Viktor’s staring at the wall in favor of Yuuri, hands clasped together with a strange expression on his face. He’s nervous about something… but what?

"Yes, we can technically. Anyone who’s married can divorce.”  
“And we cannot.”  
“Viktor, you’re not making any sense.”  
“Yuuri. Listen to me and try to understand. We were never married.”

* * *

  
_"Surely you must have hobbies besides watching movies," Viktor said as they walked arm in arm out of another late afternoon film. "I'm so fascinated by you, Yuuri Altin. I have to know everything. What do you like to do?"_

_"Well, for starters, I don't like being called Yuuri Altin." He says, playfully judging him. "I don't really have any hobbies."_

_"I don't believe that."_

_"Well, it's true. I'm useless."_

_Viktor just shakes his head. "Can you read or write?"_

_"Mmm..." Yuuri looks at another couple passing by them, far less wealthy and clearly unhappy, "I can read a little, I guess, and write my name. That's all."  
"Didn't you ever go to school?" Viktor asks softly, brushing a bit of hair from Yuuri's face, causing the other to blush._

_"No. My sister taught me what she knew. And besides, what good would I be if I could read well? It's no use to anyone but myself."_

_"Exactly. Which is why I'm going to buy you a book."_

_"Viktor, you don't have to! I don't deserve that..."  
Viktor cut him off with an open mouthed kiss, pulling back to get a full look at the surprise on Yuuri's face. That'd been their first kiss... ever._

_"Don't you see how much I care for you, Yuuri? You deserve to have books. To read and write..." Yuuri wrapped his arms around Viktor's middle tightly as they continued their stroll towards the nearest diner for a late supper._  
_"I care for you too, Viktor. More than I'm ready to admit."_  
____  
_The following week after their movie date, Viktor took him to a bookshop and allowed him to pick out any book he'd like, promising that they'd work on reading it together, bit by bit_.

_Yuuri chose a collection of Grimm's Fairy Tales, making the excuse that Master Altin wouldn't be as suspicious with the book since he still had young children at home who Yuuri could "read it" to. Viktor gave the paper bag to Yuuri along with one of his beautiful smiles, and something inside him just... clicked. He realized that he loved Viktor, right then and there._

_And he knew how wrong that was._

_So for several weeks, he didn't call. Didn't visit._  
_He felt awful about himself. How could he have fallen in love with someone while married to another? He never went to church, but he knew enough about sins and how sinners went to hell. Surely, loving someone outside your marriage and actively pursuing them was a sin. And besides, what would Mr. Altin say if he ever found out- or worse, if he caught them in the act?  
Yuuri closed himself off from the world and focused on reading the fairy tales. Well, he really kept rereading the small handwritten note inside the front cover, but no one else needed to know that._

You will find you are far more beautiful than any person, creature, or being in this entire book.  
-V

_And how he’d hug that note to his chest, doing his best not to cry because of how much he longed for Viktor, how much he longed not to be lonely anymore and be safe in those gentle arms…_

_One day though, early in the afternoon before the children returned from school, everything changed when Viktor showed up at the Altin house himself.  
"Viktor, you can't be here." Yuuri whispered, barely peeking out the door. Truthfully, he’d sprinted down the steps after fixing his hair and putting on something presentable and wore the most idiotically bright smile while sliding down the railing to reach the front door, but- but- he couldn’t show that!_

_"I just need to talk to you. Please, just give me five minutes of your time." And Viktor looked nice as always, but Yuuri could tell he hadn’t been sleeping quite right and it was probably his own fault. How could he refuse such a desperate man?_

_They ended up walking to the garden in the backside of the house. No one was around back there, not even the servants. It was peaceful. Quiet._

_"Yuuri... I'm very confused with you. You haven't been calling me. Two weeks now, I've been waiting for you. I don't understand." Viktor began, sitting on one of the cement benches and looking up at him expectantly._

_"I know." Yuuri fiddled with a button on his shirt to distract his trembling fingers. Now that they were in such close proximity, Yuuri could feel that warm sensation inside of himself that must’ve been something to do with love. There was no use denying that._

_"I thought you had feelings for me, Yuuri. Did I do something to change that?"_

_"I do have feelings for you, Viktor! And that's exactly the problem!"_

_"How is that a problem?" Viktor stood in front of him now, placing his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders. “Look at me.”_

_"This can never work... it's a fling, you'll get over me." He said monotonously._  
"I can't."  
"And why not?" Please, say it, he thought.   
"Because I've fallen in love with you, Yuuri Katsuki." Viktor said this with no shame, no regret.  
Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut, hugging himself. "Say that again."  
And Viktor leaned in really close, cupping his cheeks gently. "I love you." His voice soft as an angel's. He meant it.  
Yuuri cried and admitted he loved him too.  
No one had ever told him that before.  
He'd never felt that way towards anyone, either.  
Until now.  
"Viktor... would you.. like to stay for dinner? He won't be home, just the children. Y-You'll have to leave, and come back of course. Will you stay?"

_"I wouldn't think of anything else."_

_~~~_

_That night, Master Altin slept in the same bed as Yuuri. He was angry. Yuuri could feel his wrath practically singeing the sheets._  
_He laid as far away from him as possible, focusing on staring at the fire.  
Mr. Altin was reading a book_.

 _Stiff._  
“ _You had a guest over tonight, Yuuri.” He said. It was a statement, not a question, and Yuuri wondered which of the four children at home told their father about it. Otabek? No, not likely. He may have hated Yuuri, but he seldom ever spoke to his father anyway._  
_It must’ve been the twins.  
Currently, Otabek was the oldest at sixteen, followed by his sister Mara, fourteen, and the twins, also girls, both twelve years old. The youngest two were very close with Yuuri and seemed to adore having a more friendly parental figure around, but Mara and Otabek were as cold as ice. He’d have to interrogate them at some point the following day. But anyway, he couldn’t forget to respond… “I did. He’s my friend_.”

 _"What’s his name?”_  
“ _It’s Yuri Plisetsky’s cousin. He’s been helping me out with my reading and writing. I want to improve.” Yuuri attempted to avoid the subject. He really did._

_"That isn’t what I asked, and reading isn’t important for someone like you anyway. What was his name?”  
_

_Yuuri sighed. “His name is Viktor.”_  
“ _Plisetsky?”_  
“Nikiforov.”  
“And you’ve known him for how long now? Why haven’t I seen him around?”

_"Are you interrogating me? Garri, you never cared whom I associated with before.” Yuuri slid further under the thin blanket. “I’m going to sleep.”_

_"You love him, don’t you?”_  
“ _No. He’s just my friend.”  
“You’re filthy, Yuuri. And you know what? No Nikiforov would ever love you, so keep your head straight. I don’t want to ever see that boy here again. If he does, I’ll shoot him dead on the spot, mark my fucking words.”_

_Yuuri shrugged, but internally, he was already planning his next visit with Viktor. He didn’t care about Mr. Altin’s threats. He’d just visit Viktor at his own house instead._

_“And I’ll kill you too, you lying bitch. If you want your life, you’d stay in this house where the children can see you.”_  
_Yuuri was quite clearly crying now, but kept a smile pressed to his pinched lips. “Was that a threat, dear? I could tell the police about those. It’d be a shame for you to lose your money.”_  
_“Go to hell.”  
“I’ll see you there_.”

* * *

  
_For once, I wish I could prevent myself from crying so much._ Yuuri’s sprawled across the couch in the lounge with a terrible headache; Viktor’s standing at the window, and they won’t look at each other. Yuuri’s fuming, but Viktor just thinks he’s sad simply because he’s crying. Ha! Yuuri’s prepared a few choice words for the next time Viktor utters some pitiful “don’t cry” speech.

And, as if on cue, Viktor starts to speak: “Yuuri, love, please don’t cr-”

"Fuck you!” Yuuri cries, “I’ll do whatever I want! How could you not tell me that?! I feel so foolish!”

“I- I only just found out when I called Mr. Feltsman’s office last week, Yuuri! I’ve been arguing with him about it all week, trying to reach some sort of middle ground, but the man is stubborn.” Right, because Feltsman used to be in charge of the marriage department of the law office before recently switching over to adoption affairs for unknown reasons. He approved marriage licenses, including Viktor and Yuuri’s.

“You should’ve told me right away, you bastard. Were you just not going to tell me? And what the fuck were you talking about divorcing me for if we’re not married, Viktor?”

Viktor clenches his jaw as he slowly strides over to the couch. “You remember my first wife, don’t you? Well, it turns out Feltsman, who was in charge of managing our divorce affairs, never fucking approved of the final statement and didn’t fucking tell me, Yuuri Katsuki. I’ve been legally married for ten fucking years, and I haven’t seen the goddamned bitch in nine. You really think I wanted to divorce you, and not that slimy, backstabbing, filthy whore?”

Yuuri scowls. “So… it was you.”

“What?”

“You're the reason we couldn't adopt? And you let them blame it on me?? Wow, Viktor! That says a lot about your character, doesn't it?” It'd just hit him, that awful realization. And then he's hit again. “Everyone's always known, right? That's why they think I'm so awful. I've been shamelessly flaunting the fact that I sleep with a married man on a daily basis…” Yuuri groans, resting his face in his hands. “I'm going to kill myself.”

“I don't know who knows, and also, there's no need for that.” Viktor says, voice tight, “none of this was ever your fault. I asked you to marry me, you accepted, and we got married. It's not your fault the paperwork was false.” Viktor crouches in front of him. “It makes you think Feltsman deserved his death, huh?”

Yuuri nods. “What did he ever have against you?”

"Well… I married his secret daughter. He had an affair with a worker, kept the kid as a servant, and after she ran away, I ended up drunkenly marrying her years later. He was furious, but could never say anything because it would expose him of his affair.” He offers Yuuri his hands, to which Yuuri timidly accepts, “He hated me ever since.”  
“But to go as far as ruin your life? And mine too?”

“Looks like he just about succeeded. You won't want to stay with me until the divorce properly finalizes in September, will you?”

“I have to, Viktor,” Yuuri squeezes his hands, finally meeting his eyes, “ah, there's… um… a little something I haven't told you about either..”

* * *

**  
**Dear Mom,  
I haven’t spoken to you in six years, ever since I was married off to that Lombardi guy. Did you ever hear that he divorced me when he wanted to get back with his ex wife?  
I guess part of the reason we haven’t talked is because I couldn’t write or read all too well. But, typewriters make everything more convenient, and I wanted to let you know I’m still alive. I don’t know how much Dad has told you; he’s the one that kept marrying me off, but I never got your opinion on it. 

**I went and got married, and we’re having a baby.  
** I know I told Dad I had kids before, but those were my stepchildren under a different spouse. You wrote to me, congratulating me, and I didn’t have the heart to tell you otherwise.  
But it’s different now. This baby is all mine. Well, all ours. 

**I’m on my fourth marriage now, this time to someone I actually love, someone who’s close to my age and understands me. His name is Viktor Nikiforov. We live in New York state… and most of the time I’m very lonely here. Sure, there’s plenty to do, but I just keep thinking: how long will this last? How much longer until Viktor casts me out of his sights and reveals that he never truly loved me at all?  
I know, for a while it’s just been doubt. But last night, I heard Viktor talking on the phone about a divorce, and I’m terrified I’ll soon be out on the street with an infant and no place left to go.**

**You’d think I’d be happy about finally having a baby, but I’m terrified. I haven’t stopped crying all morning and I don’t know how to tell him. What will happen next? How will he react? I want him to be happy…  
** Maybe I’ll come and stay with you all in Georgia over the summer. I have money. I won’t be a burden anymore.  
But I’ll never forgive you and Dad for casting me out like that. Not ever.

**Yuuri Nikiforov**

* * *

  
"Are you sure?"  
"Yes, I... I visited the doctor early this morning, he said it was highly likely, and then the nausea started back up.."

"But are you sure? You don't sound sure."

"I _am_ sure, Viktor! It's my body and I am very, very sure!"

"Then... when?"

"W-We were in Barcelona, remember? It wasn't supposed to happen, it was an accident, but... accidents happen—"

"No, no, of course I know when, I mean when is it coming? It's not coming now, is it?"

Yuuri laughs softly. "No...December? We think December..."

Viktor spares no time wrapping his arms around Yuuri's neck, pressing kiss after kiss onto him. But he isn't smiling. He looks sad.

"We should be happy, Viktor. What's wrong?"

Viktor doesn't reply at first; he slips his head down to Yuuri's stomach and lays several kisses there. "Because we don't know if we're going to make it out of here alive..." he says, hugging his middle, "one of us might be taken to jail and killed for the crime, Yuuri, and if it's you, the baby will never get to be born. If it's me, I'll never meet them..."

"Viktor, please... I want to enjoy this moment. Let's not think about what might happen later, let's think about right now and be happy."

"I know it's a long time until December," Viktor says after a while, "but maybe we should start thinking about names soon?"

"Names? Hm... well, what was your father's name?"

"Igor."

"Ehh..."

"What about your father?"

"Toshiya."

"Mm.."

"We could name it Viktor, if it's a boy."

"Or Yuuri!"  
"Heh... no thank you."

"...Okay, what about girl names?"

"What was your mother's name?"

"Katerina. Yours?"

"Hiroko." Yuuri made a face. "Not that our parents necessarily have bad names, but I don't want our baby to be named after them. Yours are dead, and mine, well... I'll never completely forgive or respect them for turning me out like that. W-We can do Viktor or Katerina, that's fine."

"What name do you really want for a girl?"

"Scarlett." Yuuri says without missing a beat.

"That's... a queer name. I've never heard of someone being called Scarlett as a first name before." Viktor doesn't like it, obviously.

"Well you asked!"

"Fine, fine. If it's a girl, it'll be Scarlett, because that’s what you want. If it's a boy, I get to choose, though I think it's a girl."

"You don't want a boy? I thought you would. Huh.." He pulls him into a hug. "Planning for a baby will be fun, but we need to think about more pressing matters."

"The murder?" Viktor raises an eyebrow.

"No, the wedding! I'll be so fat by then, I won't fit into anything! We'll need to make it discreet, but I still want it to be beautiful. Perhaps we could hold it in Barcelona? Or would that be too repetitive?"

"Yuuri, my love, someone's been murdered tonight. The wedding will have to wait, the baby has to wait, everything has to wait."

"Ah, that's where you're wrong, Viktor. Just because our life currently is falling apart, doesn't mean other events will stop happening. I need ginger root tea, because the nausea is coming back, and you're going to go find me some."

"But it was poisoned last time. What if...?"

"Well, if it smells funny, don't get too close. Now go!"

Viktor smiles wryly, and pecks a kiss on Yuuri's lips. "Be right back. Don't go anywhere."

"Your baby might think otherwise."

Viktor bends, remembering to give Yuuri's stomach a final kiss. "And you too! Don't go anywhere!"

While Viktor's gone, Yuuri strips from his smallclothes and uses Viktor's suit jacket as a blanket. He closes his eyes, and soon falls asleep.

* * *

 

Yuuri sleeps hard for close to an hour. He misses the loudness of the clock striking midnight, doors opening and closing and chatter in the hallways. He misses the gunshot firing off just minutes before, but he thinks he heard it distantly in a dream…  
He only wakes up when he's had enough rest.

Viktor's sleeping on the opposite side of the couch, and in front of him is a tray with now-cold ginger tea. He takes a few sips, then snuggles back in beside Viktor. He should be panicking right now, should be upset about all that’s happened, but he isn’t. Even though they aren’t technically married now thanks to Feltman’s grudge, Yuuri feels as if nothing has changed. He still wears a golden ring on his finger, he married Viktor in a church and remained faithful; so really, in God’s eyes, what difference is there?  
He laces his fingers with Viktor’s, taking several deep breaths. He won’t let a crime stop them from achieving what they’ve always longed for. And if they have to escape before the police arrive, so be it. He wants to get married before he dies. He wants Viktor to be there to meet his firstborn.

He revels in the peace for a full five minutes until thunder rumbles loudly and abruptly, startling him into focus. "Viktor–"

"It's the storm, Yuuri," Viktor murmurs, half awake, "bringing in another cold front, I'll bet."

"It sounded like a gunshot to me earlier..." Yuuri shivers under the thin warmth of Viktor's coat around his shoulders. "Should we check on the others? What time is it?"

"Half past twelve. Don't get up, Yuuri. Don't move."

"Why?"

"I-I want to enjoy this for a few more minutes. Please..." He traces a finger against Yuuri’s knuckles, something pleading in his tired blue eyes.

“Okay.” Yuuri lays his head on his chest, and listens to how rapidly his heart is beating. He knows something is wrong, but he pretends he doesn’t. He pretends everything is perfect, that there are no troubles surrounding his little family. Huh, family. That was a new vocabulary word for him to work with.

“It’s very difficult to stay good in this world we’re living in.” Viktor says, voice trembling ever so slightly. He lays an arm across Yuuri’s back, pulling him closer, “There aren’t really any completely good people anymore. I’m not good.”  
“Yes you are.” Yuuri whispers, focusing on keeping his own breathing steady.

“Everyone I’ve ever trusted has secrets I wish I didn’t know. Things just aren’t like what it used to be, you know? Maybe they are. Back when my father was a boy, our country was fighting the Civil War over here, but he still lived in Russia. He said that sometimes he wondered why he wasn’t born here like his brothers were, and never got to carry that American Born Citizen title that everyone craved. He was treated differently than other kids because he was foreign. Even though he was white, even though he was rich, they saw him as someone separate because he was from someplace else. And yet there were still slaves, still mistreated people of color who were killed in blind hatred, burned at the stake, even, and treated far worse than him, and he dared to complain while living in his mansion that he had a horrible childhood. So I raise the question, when has anyone ever been good? It seems like the world has always been evil, especially recently with the World War, but now it only will get worse. I don’t want my child to be born into a world like this.”

Yuuri smiles, something forced. “There won't be any more world wars, Viktor. I know there's bad people, but there's good ones too… it's 1922, love. The world is changing. In another decade, the world will be quite different than it is now. Maybe our little one will live a better life. It will, because we'll make sure of that, won't we? We can't give up because of what's happened in the past. That doesn't define us.”

“But tonight? What about tonight, Yuuri?” Viktor's voice is pained, “Oh _Yuuri_ … what are we going to do…”  
“We're okay, Viktor. We're going to be okay.”

“I want this child to live in a good place… what if we don't make it after tonight? What if this is it?”  
On one hand, Yuuri understands, but what he doesn't is how desperate and panicked Viktor’s being all of the sudden. As if something happened while he'd been asleep.

He needs to distract Viktor before he gets scared too…  
So he tips Viktor's chin up, pressing a firm kiss against those trembling lips, lifting one leg so that it parts the other man’s thighs.

Viktor's hesitant for just a moment, but with a completely naked beauty on top of him that he loves more than life himself, he forgets that hesitation and returns the heated kiss. Yuuri knows his heartbeat is still pounding, practically out of his chest, but he wants to forget that. He wants to forget everything.

"Viktor, look at me..." Yuuri parts their lips, gazing into his eyes. " _Look at me_."  
"I am looking at you." Viktor says.  
"Not really, though. Don't take your eyes off me, okay? Just take deep breaths and relax."

"I'm not panicking."

"Yes you are."

Viktor licks his lips, hesitantly meeting Yuuri's gaze. "You know me all too well, darling. What do you say I should do?"  
They're both sitting up now, and Yuuri mentally prepares a speech on the topic he knows far too well. "Well, for starters, you should take deep br—"  
In an instant, he switches their previous position, pinning Yuuri down into the couch.  
Yuuri doesn't mind this, of course.  
"I meant something like this, Yuuri." He adds, as if that justifies his sudden actions.

So Yuuri just smiles, spreading his legs so that Viktor can be closer to him. "That works too."

Viktor starts with his stomach, of course, peppering gentle kisses down and across, then moves to his pelvis, giving Yuuri another look for approval.

Yuuri's face is red, but he nods, turning his head away as if he's too embarrassed to look.

So Viktor eases himself in between Yuuri's thighs and can't help but smile to himself. Never would he have thought he'd be doing this with Yuuri after the party. It was good, it was what they needed, he thought.

Even as he flicked his tongue over the entrance, loving the moaned response he was given, his mind was still on the danger they both were in.

How could he think of anything else?  
Damn... He certainly was losing it.

"Viktor, m-move..." Yuuri whined, spreading himself further, if that was even possible. "And be careful..."

"I know, I know." _But I don't want to be careful. I want to be rough, rough enough to forget any of this ever happened. I want your voice to drown out any doubts I'm having, all my fears... make me forget._

"Make me forget..." he repeats after a few minutes of empty rimming and feeling far too distant from Yuuri for his liking.  
"I– do what?"  
"Just make me forget it all." He's not into this. He can't be.  
"Viktor, what are you—"  
Viktor sinks his head into Yuuri's chest, and suddenly cries, horrible, painful...

Yuuri frowns, draping the suit jacket overtop of Viktor. He hugs him tightly for a while in attempts to figure out what's got him so worked up. And then he realizes it, and well...  
he starts to cry too.

 "I, I love you, Yuuri..." Viktor says, quiet as a mouse.

"I know. I love you too. No matter what."

 _No matter what_. _I'm going to hold myself to that promise._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So everyone should want to give Yuuri a round of applause for being able to stand after all he's been through tonight. Victuuri Baby(ies?) are in production and he's been out here solving mysteries and dealing with Viktor's breakdown 
> 
> Y'all be out here wishing Yuuri got laid but lemme tell ya that's gonna have to wait,,, it WILL happen eventually tho okay calm down kids. 
> 
> So that got,,, angsty. Didn't really expect it to be, honestly. It was supposed to be fluff, but I got a little carried away. Don't hurt me, I'm young. 
> 
> See you next time, when we find out: What on Earth have the others been up to this entire time?


	6. Chapter Five: The Conservatory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri Plisetsky starts to ponder what makes a person inherently good or evil.  
> Also.  
> Someone gets a singing telegram.

“Okay, okay. Don’t lie. Would you fuck Yuuri Nikiforov?”

“Who _wouldn’t_ fuck Yuuri Nikiforov?”

“Who _hasn’t_?”

Three of the four men relaxing at two tables in the conservatory of the Feltsman manor are having a wonderful time degrading Yura’s cousin’s spouse, and he wants to cut his own ears off. To defend Yuuri would mean supporting him and getting teased, but to stay silent means the continuance of this awful talk. They’re tipsy, he knows this, and this is how adult men talk. But he’s hardly eighteen and doesn’t feel like he’s anywhere near their level. Maybe it’s the new generation in him, or maybe he’s starting to care about Yuuri. What the fuck?

“Are you saying you have fucked Yuuri, JJ? When was that?” Chris takes another swig from the bottle in his hand.

Yuri scowls, but says nothing. Not yet.

“He doesn’t remember. His second husband gave him to me to babysit for the night while we were stationed together at some camp over here during the war. Yuuri was drunk, I was mad drunk, so was his husband. I don’t really remember anything about it except it was good and that he came unbelievably quickly.”

This causes the men to burst into laughter. But Yuri Plisetsky? He’s pissed. “Weren’t you married then, Leroy? I’m sure your wife wouldn’t appreciate this conversation.”

And JJ just blinks, pausing for a second. “Shut up, kid. The grown-ups are talking.” He eventually replies teasingly. “Anyway, I was drunk. It’s not like I took him to dinner or anything.”

“You know, maybe you should’ve. He would have taught you a thing or two about manners, something you lack.”

At this, the three men just laugh his comment off. As if he’s worth nothing; really, as if Yuuri is worth nothing. And he isn’t, not to them.

And he wasn’t to Yura either. Still isn’t… right.

“Anyway, I don’t think Viktor married him for his brains. Judging by what Yuuri wore tonight, I think it’s quite obvious where the attraction goes to.” Chris slides his hands down his sides, swaying his hips sensually. “ _My name’s Yuuri and I wear slutty outfits then cry to my husband about how people look at me!_ ” He shrieks in a high-pitched, overly feminine voice.

“Ah, you haven’t got it quite right!” JJ laughs, copying Chris’ position. “ _My name’s Yuuri, I kill husbands for a living and then cry about how Viktor won’t love me! I just can’t imagine why no one would love ME! I’m so be-au-ti-ful!”_

“Yeah, he’s too beautiful for his own good. What’s he thinking, seducing two married men like that? Has he no shame?” Georgi rolls his eyes.

Yura pushes himself to his feet, storming out of the conservatory. Why did he feel embarrassed, as if he were Yuuri? Why should he care? But he does care. He’s so _livid_ , and not just at those men. He’s angry with Yuuri too. Because Yuuri somehow created this image for himself. It didn’t come out of thin air.

But anyway, he has other things to think about.

* * *

 

“Fuck all you fucking pieces of shit, I hope you rot…” Yura mumbles to himself as he heads down the hallway to find out where his cousin and Yuuri ran off to. It’d been a slow night up until now. He and the other men had gone to the basement like instructed to check out the corpse- which was… disgusting, of course. The body wasn’t how Yuuri had described it and everyone started saying that a certain someone wasn’t as innocent as he seemed to be.

But still, Viktor was the prime suspect. That wouldn’t change.

Yakov’s body did have the gunshot wound, but he didn’t have much of a face. Someone, likely the killer, had smashed his face in with some sort of weapon. Did that mean that multiple weapons were involved? It was likely. Did they, as a collective group, search for said weapon? No.

Yura didn’t want to believe that any Nikiforov was brave enough to commit a murder with so many people around. Considering how frail one of them had been all night, how would he have had the strength to drag Mr. Feltsman all the way out of the house without leaving a trace? He began to suspect that there must’ve been some secret passage somewhere. Or that, perhaps, more than one person was involved. That’d make perfect sense too. If charged, they’d die together. How romantic.

Sighing, Yura pauses in front of the door to the lounge where he decided to check first. Light flickers from underneath, and he can assume the couple in question is on the other side. _Viktor, Yuuri, you’re both idiots. But I’m praying you’re smart enough to hide the evidence well and save your lives. I don’t want another death in the family._

And after a quick remembrance of the time he _forgot_ to knock on a door before entering, he does so, politely. What a good child he is. He doesn’t get a response. Fuck this politeness shit! “Open the door, you dumb pigs!”

“I thought I told you to stay away!” Yuuri shouts, kind of startling the younger. _Oh, they’re either doing something gross or he’s crying. Again._ A pang of guilt surges through him as he wonders if Yuuri, by any chance, heard what everyone outside was saying about him. It doesn’t sound like Viktor is with him. Yuuri never shouted at someone in front of Viktor. Never.

“That’s it, I’m coming in.” Yura kicks open the door, for effect obviously. It seems that Viktor is not in the room, like he thought. It’s very smokey. “Yuuri…” 

Yuuri has to be on his fourth cigarette. He's crouched by the window, staring off into nothing while being clouded with the smoke, drowning in its odor. He looks awful.  
"Yuuri." He tried again.  
  
Yuuri wipes his cheek with the back of his free hand. He doesn't reply.  
  
Yura tilts his head to the side. "Should you really be smoking that much?"  
  
"Shouldn't you fuck off?" Yuuri says quietly, taking another puff from the cigarette. At least he's speaking. "I'm almost out."  
  
"It's not good for you." The door clicks shut.  
  
He laughs humorlessly. "I don't care about my smoking habits."  
  
"I meant being alone."  
  
He does the laugh again, which accidentally turns into a cry, and Yuuri quickly covers his mouth with his free hand and sobs into it. "I'm fine."  
  
"I'm just going to make some guesses here." Yura carefully slides into the corner beside him. "Either Viktor has done something or you're having uncontrollable mood swings."  
  
Yuuri shakes his head, hesitates, then nods.  
  
"You've been crying so much tonight. How do you have any tears left?" He nudges him. "Come on, cheer up. You'll be able to go back home soon."  
  
"I want to go home now. Right now." Yuuri sinks his head into his knees, sniffling. "I'm just so tired, my heart is aching and I still feel so sick..."  
  
"You should be resting. After all that’s happened, I don't see why you're even considering staying awake. We can handle things... just sleep until the police arrive."  
  
"No." Yuuri says instantly. "I need to stay awake and help in whatever way I can."  
  
"Well, you're not much help in your current state."  
  
Yuuri scowls at the young man, then heaves a sigh. "If I leave, they'll take Viktor from me."  
  
"Are you telling me he did it?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Yuuri, the one time I want you to talk, you—"  
  
" _I don't know_ !!! I. Don't. Know!! Viktor's the only logical suspect to all of you. But does anyone stop and think that it might've been me?! I _wish_ you all interrogated me. I wish I was the confirmed killer and I could be the one hung for it since _no one fucking wants me alive anyway_ !!"  
  
" _Yuuri_ !" Yura nearly slaps him for saying such a thing.  
  
Yuuri jolts, staring at him for a few moments. "I'm sorry... I- I don't know what I..."  
  
"No, it's okay," the younger assures, pulling him to his feet, "let's find you a bed to rest in for a little while. Does that sound alright?"  
  
"Well... I-I suppose..." Yuuri holds his head for a moment, taking several deep breaths. "Yeah. That sounds nice."  
  
"Do you know where Viktor is?"  
  
"He went out to smoke and get some air. He said he'd be right back."  
  
"That's fine. I'll just take you myself."

Another walk down the hallway. Dead silent. Yuuri’s face is pale, his body is slouched against his young companion. He’s drained, physically and emotionally. But still, there’s something else...

“Ah, here.” Yura pushes open the door to what he remembers as the guest suite. It’s small, not nearly as fancy as the bedroom Yuuri occupies at home, but the younger thinks that he won’t mind, considering how tired he looks.  
  
"I'm going to take my shoes off." Yuuri says once they've gotten inside. His fingers are shaking as he pulls his shoes off, and it looks like he’s about to fall over.

“Are you alright, Yuuri?”  
He shrugs, "I thought I was, but carrying a baby proves to be a lot harder than I thought it would be."  
"I knew you were lying to me." Yura chuckles, helping him onto the bed. "When are you due, then, since you wouldn't tell me earlier?"

  
"December." Yuuri lays down again and sighs softly.

  
"Are you really okay? I'd think you'd be excited, being how long you've been wanting this." Every goddamn time Yura came over, Yuuri would never shut the fuck up about how much he wanted kids and enjoyed visiting children and just _babies_ , blah blah blah…

  
"I'm worried about the baby." Yuuri says after a while of staring off into space. He rests a hand over his stomach, and it looks like he’s about to cry again. Damn it.  
  
"Why? You’ve went to the doctor’s recently, right?”  
  
"No... I mean, yes, but that's not the point. Tonight.. I've drank poison. I've fallen hard several times. Smoked more than I ever have..."  
  
"This is your first child. My mother always said she was worried like that and worse with me."  
  
Yuuri gives him a pained smile. "Ah yes, but this isn't my first pregnancy. Viktor doesn't know."  
  
Wait… what? What?? When would that have- "Yuuri... I didn't... I'm sorry..." _Great fucking job, Yuri Plisetsky. You have no idea how to deal with people._ “If you don’t mind me asking, when was that? You should probably have told someone.”  
  
"We'd just gotten married, and I didn't know the signs. When I started to think something wasn't quite right and realized I'd gotten pregnant, I started bleeding the day after. I didn't have the heart to tell him." After a long pause, he adds, "So no. This isn't my first time, and I know when something's wrong."

* * *

  
  
_Yuuri hadn't thought about that day in a long time. It was July of 1920, scorching hot. He had all the curtains closed in his bedroom and kept the lights off, trying not to move too much. Nothing, not even the removal of his undergarments, helped._ __  
__  
_Viktor had fallen asleep next to him the night before and never moved to his own room, likely too exhausted from the temperature. His face was already pink from the heat, even though he wasn't under the blanket either and only wearing his underwear, and it was still early._ __  
__  
_It was just that hot._ __  
  
Yuuri's stomach was cramping terribly, making everything worse. He felt dizzy and sick and just... he knew. It happened to his older sister once, while he shared a room with her. She’d begun to cramp up while pregnant with her first child and just cried and cried… and Yuuri didn’t understand why. Now, he did.

 _Viktor woke up shortly after that, mumbling about being late for work and not wanting to go to an important meeting. He still turned to Yuuri and left a kiss on his cheek. "I'll see you tonight. How about we go out for dinner?" His fingers glided across Yuuri’s jaw elegantly, and he pulled him in for a soft kiss. Yuuri didn’t feel like returning it, or breathing, or…_ __  
  
But instead of protesting, he nodded, wearing a highly forced smile. "I'll see you then."

 _“You’ve got to drop off that paperwork in Manhattan before noon.”_ __  
__  
“I know.” It was getting harder and harder not to start crying right then and there.

 _“You’re a lifesaver. I’ll rent out the entire restaurant tonight for us as a thank you.”_ __  
  
They of course, don't go, for just minutes after Viktor left, Yuuri started to bleed. A lot. So much, that he called the doctor's wife and begged for advice on what to do or how he could save whatever was left of his child. She offered condolences. She said she could come over and help him. He declined.

 __  
_In the end, it was the lead maid who helped him through the rest of the process and the day. Lilia was literally a lifesaver._ __  
__  
_And he never told Viktor because he felt ashamed of what had happened, even if it wasn’t technically his fault. He felt as if he had one job as Viktor's newest spouse, and that was to bear him a son. And he'd failed that. Stupid, stupid, stupid._ __  
__  
_So he replaced the bed sheets, the comforter— everything in his room and switched them out for a different color; a dark, dark blue to represent the grief and pain in his heart without having to speak it. Worthless._ __  
__  
_After that, Viktor was determined to get himself a son. He didn't understand why it wasn't working. He never would know the truth, and there were times he looked so frustrated it took all Yuuri had not to tell him the truth. Such a failure._ __  
__  
_And when he found out he was two months pregnant just this past day, he wasn't planning on telling Viktor either should he lose it as well… Weak._ __  
  
But Yuuri knew now that if he lost this baby, he'd be perfectly fine with dying with it. He couldn't let Viktor down like that again. He didn't want to go through the pain...

* * *

 

“You’re stronger than you were back then, Yuuri. This baby will be your ticket out of here, out of prison maybe, out of everything. And you never shut up about how much you want kids, so I’m sure you already have a nursery built and everything.” He’s trying to cheer him up. It’s not exactly working… 

“Not yet. I have a cradle…” Yuuri says gloomily.

“Okay, spill what’s really bothering you."  
  
"I'm in a lot of trouble, Yura. I'm scared."  
  
"Tell me."  
  
He exhales. "Well, first of all...what do you know about Viktor's first marriage?"  
  
Yura makes a face. "He was married when I was still a kid. I met the girl once, they were both embarrassed about it and planned on quietly divorcing."  
  
"And did they divorce? Do you know?"  
  
"What kind of fucking question is that, Yuuri? You married him, didn't you?"  
  
"I.. thought I did." Yuuri shrugs. "I feel like I don't know who he is anymore. I mean; what if he gets arrested in the morning? I can't raise a child by myself. Why would Viktor be a suspect, anyway?"  
  
"Wow, you're kind of dumb. Feltsman and him haven't gotten along in years." He says, "In fact, people say that Feltsman has been sending people to harass Viktor for a while for some private issue they have with each other and cannot agree on, and Viktor does the same. It's petty. It's dumb. And you haven't noticed?"  
  
"Have I noticed?" Yuuri pauses. "Well, like a year ago..."

* * *

  
  
_Yuuri woke from a sound sleep, unsure why. When he looked around, he found himself to be alone in his bedroom. As usual._ __  
__  
_But why had he woken up? Perhaps Viktor had just left, that was probably it._ __  
_Still... something wasn't quite right. He reached over and took his robe, then slid out of bed as he tied it tightly around his waist. He looked out the window at the yard, squinting in the faint light. It looked like someone was out there..._ __  
__  
_Cr—ash..._ __  
_A window downstairs shattered._ __  
__  
_Yuuri's heart had been in his throat— he didn't know what to do—_ __  
_So he tiptoed to his door and locked it, then climbed back into bed, hiding himself as far as he could under the covers as if he were a child._ __  
__  
_And he fell back to sleep, somehow._ __  
  
In the morning, though, his door was swung wide open, and several of his belongings were missing, including but not limited to, his golden wedding ring.

* * *

  
  
"Someone stole your ring? That's fucked up, Yuuri. Did you ever find it?"  
  
"Ah, no..." Yuuri smiles sadly, "Viktor just bought me another one as if losing the first one was nothing. But it was everything to me, my most prized possession, really. I guess he didn't understand."  
  
"So you don't know who stole from you."  
  
"Now that you've said what you did, I wonder if it's connected. Though I don't know why Yakov Feltsman would want my wedding ring." He hugs himself. "Anyway, what have you all found out? Anything?"  
  
"Nothing much. Everyone thinks Viktor's the one that did it, though, so they're not going to do much." Yuri responds. "Do you know if he did?"  
  
"I don't know what to think."  
  
"Me either. But, if he does get arrested, and you need help with... you know... the kid or whatever, I could, I mean, I guess I could help out or something."  
  
Yuuri surprises him by hugging him tightly, not because he thinks Yuri wants one, but because he really needs one. He wants comfort, and he looks for it in the arms of an eighteen year old. "Thank you so much."  
"I didn't do anything, Yuuri."  
  
"But you care about me. Compared to you earlier tonight, you've had a change of heart."  
  
"I didn't! Well.. I guess I just... kinda realized I should be nicer to you if you're family. Don't read into it."  
  
"You said I wasn't family." Yuuri pokes the top of his head. "It's okay. I'll pretend I didn't notice, but I hope we can be friends."  
  
"Whatever..." 

“And if you ever need a place to stay, our house is yours, with or without the baby. I know how hard things have been for you recently.”  
  
Quickly pulling away with the least of pleasant glares, Yura leans against the mantel of the fireplace. A few minutes of silence pass. "Anyway, I'm bored. What shall we do?"  
  
“Could you go get my cigarettes and gloves from the lounge? I don’t want to forget them when I go home.”

“Sure. If and only if you rest.”

Yuuri nods, lying against the pillow obediently. “I’ll even try to sleep.”

So Yura leaves the room with plans to find where Viktor’s run off to and try to do a little bit of mystery solving. He returns to the lounge and retrieves Yuuri’s gloves like he asks, but slides the cigarettes under the couch. “You don’t need these.” 

On his way out, he trips on the carpet. Call it an accident, call it fate, but it reveals something he’d suspected all along. A trap door. Finally! He doesn’t want to get Yuuri up, but going alone? Not tonight!

* * *

  
"I... I can't believe this." Viktor clutches a polished golden and delicately engraved wedding ring from the opened desk drawer in Yakov's office. "Why the fuck would he have this?"  
  
"I have no idea. It was JJ that found it." Georgi says in reply. "I find it all rather disturbing. We were in here, looking for further evidence when we found it. And Chris said it looked familiar, apparently he once had them polished for you?”  
  
Viktor's jaw is clenched. "He had someone.. break into my house and take Yuuri's ring... and for what? For what?!"  
  
"Calm down, Nikiforov." Mr. Leroy says. "Look. You have a right to be upset. I mean, if it was my wife, I'd be furious. But Feltsman's dead now. So we can't do anything about it except figure out why."  
"And even that's not important right now!" Georgi adds, "We have to solve this murder before the police arrive or they'll do it for us, and God knows who they will decide is the culprit."  
  
"I'm mostly worried about Yuuri," Viktor slips the ring into his shirt pocket, "he's too weak to be thrown into jail for a crime he didn't do." His expression changes suddenly, into something far more fond as he thinks to himself— _And either way, I'm going to be a father soon_ —  
And then that's when the image of Yuuri, arms tied behind his back and prepared to be hung shoots into his mind like a bullet. Not one, but two deaths would occur, and Viktor would have to just sit there and watch hopelessly, powerless to help...  
  
"Hey. Get your head out of the clouds, Viktor. I just saw a light outside by the driveway." 

* * *

  
"Yuuri, may I ask you a kind of personal question?"  
"Unless it's about my sex life, sure thing." Yuuri playfully pokes the younger boy as they climb down a ladder into the dark, seemingly endless tunnel. "What's on your mind?"  
  
"Why did you wear _that_ to the party?" Yura asks as he kind of definitely stares Yuuri up and down in the most critical of ways.  
  
"Wear what? This?" Yuuri takes the side of the gown and gives it a little shake. "Isn't it lovely? Or... it was, anyway."  
  
"Yeah but... everyone else was wearing suits tonight. Black. White. Dim colors. Why on earth would you wear that, especially something so bold in color? It's not like you to want to stand out."  
  
"I know. This was my first ball with Viktor and I wanted it to be special. That and... I guess I... did want to be noticed in hopes that... oh never mind."  
  
"No, tell me."  
  
Yuuri visibly wears a blush, but he pretends he isn't. "I like it when Viktor gets jealous. I thought that if men noticed and danced with me, he'd get jealous and pay more attention to me afterward. Stupid, I know."  
  
"Your marriage isn't quite as sound as everyone thought, or you're both really immature and petty."  
  
Yuuri laughs softly, though there are tears in his eyes. "Maybe a little bit of both. Marriage is no picnic. Don't ever do it."  
  
"It's all a social status anyway. But two aristocrats like you and him, both called attractive and looking for love, it would've happened some way or another at some point. People say you're the sinfully perfect match."  
  
"In what way? I'm curious."  
  
"Well, they say you're not the traditional housewife, and you're what he needs. Someone with modern ideals who's still willing to form the picture of the perfect wealthy couple. All that was missing was a baby, which you've got covered now."  
  
"Thanks. And what about him? How does he complete me?"  
  
"Apparently he's a saint for marrying you, but you love him because he looks out for you, protects you and gives you something you've never had."  
  
"A friend?"  
  
"A home."  
  
"You're more perceptive than I thought, Yura. I'm impressed." Yuuri hugs himself, gazing down the dark tunnel. “I’ve always been afraid of the dark.”

“Afraid of the dark, really? Aren’t you like, thirty years old?”

“Thirty?! No way! I’m only twenty four!” He cries dramatically. “Do I really look that old?”

“I mean, kind of?”

Yuuri grins at the young man. “Well, you don’t look eighteen either. You look about fourteen.”

“Yeah, okay. If you weren’t carrying my cousin’s ugly baby, I’d kick you to the ground.”

At this, he just shakes his head, looking forward with a hand over his stomach. “Hey, do you see that light up ahead? Maybe it’s the end of the passage.”

Yura grabs his arm when he’s about to trudge forward. “Wait a second. I think I heard something.”

“Heard wha-”

To his grave, one of the only things Yuri Plisetsky regretted was not looking behind them in the passageway. Because of this failure, Yuuri receives a sharp kick to the back from a hidden figure.

Yuuri is thrown to the ground, and cries out in pain.  
  
"You bastard!" Yura shoves the man to the side to help Yuuri stand up. "He's expecting. You could've hurt the baby!"  
  
"I didn't know." The man pants, suddenly being recognizable as Yakov’s lead servant, Phichit Chulanont.  "What are you two doing in here? How did you find this passage?"  
  
"None of your business." Comes a snappy reply. "And if you don't tell us what's hidden down here I'm going to assume it was you who killed Feltsman all along."  
  
"It's just how we servants get around unnoticed during parties. It only leads to the kitchen." Phichit replies.  
  
"Then why are you back here now?"  
  
At this, the butler comes up short. "I should ask you the same thing."  
  
"That's not a good enough answer, man!" Yura scowls, "Tell us. Now."  
  
"I steal from Feltsman from time to time. My stuff is stashed in here."  
  
"How low of you," Yuuri finally speaks up, looking even more sickly than before, "but then again, considering how awful your master was, I almost don't blame you. Can I see what you've stolen, at least? I'm looking for something Feltsman has."  
  
The walk down the dark passage is awkwardly silent. Yuuri doesn't feel quite right, and Yura is keeping Phichit busy with questions about the construction of the passage, even though he doesn't care.  
  
And finally, towards the end of the passage, they come across a pile of stolen goods. Mostly money, but there's also stolen silver and gold and even jewelry.  
  
Yuuri kneels beside the pile, sifting through it carefully. "When my... when my husband and I first got married, we went on our honeymoon in Paris and found this jewelry shop that sold the most beautiful rings we'd ever seen before... he wanted to buy me jewels of all sorts, but I just wanted a golden wedding band. So we bought one for each of us, and then got them engraved. Someone stole mine, and I've been looking for it for a long time."  
  
"What did the engraved piece say?" The butler asks.  
"It was an Italian phrase we'd read somewhere. I know it's weird to get an Italian phrase engraved in France, but it was sentimental, you know? I won't bore you with the sappy details, though."  
  
"I've never stolen an engraved ring, to my knowledge. Why on earth would you think Mr. Feltsman would have it?" Phichit folds his arms. "And would you hurry?"  
  
"Don't rush me." Yuuri says.  
He, of course, comes up with nothing. "Well, I’ve got business to attend to.” He suddenly says, “Have a pleasant night, gentlemen.” And just like that, Phichit is gone.

“I can’t… I can’t find it.” Yuuri laments, wiping sweat from his face. “God, it feels like a furnace in here.”

“It does seem to be getting a lot warmer. Let’s find a way out of here.” He offers Yuuri his arm, and together, they reach a dead end. It’s very, very hot. They’re both sweating bullets…

“Damn it. This can’t be the end!” Yura swears under his breath. Together, they pretty much run back towards the lounge, the only way they can possibly get out. A secret passage with only one exit? How boring. Something was off.

They arrive at the ladder, and Yura lets Yuuri climb up first. He slides open the door and squints around the dark room. “I do wish we would’ve brought a lantern or… something.”  

“Me too. It’s creepy as shit in this house.” Yura climbs up after him. Once they’re both into the incredibly dark lounge, they fail to notice something that’s quite obviously lying on the floor by the couch, until…

“Oh my _God_!”

They don’t know how. They don’t know why. But somehow, someway, the corpse of Feltsman has arrived on the floor of the lounge, face down. Staining the rug.

Neither knows who screamed louder, or higher pitched. They bolt for the door, and find it… locked? Locked?? From the outside?!

While Yuuri’s panicking, Yura presses his face against the door. Listening closely, he can hear a conversation on the other side of the wall. “Wait. I think I hear Viktor…”

“Then maybe he can let us out!” Yuuri instinctively starts banging on the door, then the wall, and then back to the door again. “Viktor! Viktor!!!”  
  
“Hey, dumbass! Let us out!” Yura assists him by kicking the wall with all his strength.

“ _Let us out!!_ ”

“Eh, Viktor, did you hear something?” Georgi asks his friend. They’ve just left the study, and someone’s pounding on the door of the lounge.

“Yeah, I did. That’s Yuuri.” Viktor, utterly confused, jogs over to the lounge. “Yuuri, where are you? What happened?”

“Let us out! Let us out!!” Comes what is definitely Yuuri’s voice from behind the wall.

“How?” Georgi tries to push the door in, but it won’t budge. “What do you mean, let us out? We can’t!” He turns to Viktor. “It’s locked.”  
  
“I _know._ Let us in!” Viktor tries instead, throwing open the doors. “Let us in!”

Somehow, someway, the entrance opens up on its own, and just like that, Yuuri and Yura spring out from the passage, crashing into Viktor and the professor and sending all four adults to the floor.

“Thank god, I thought I was going to roast in there…” Yuuri gasps for breath, throwing his arms around Viktor’s neck. “You saved us!”

“Oh, forget what I did. You alright?” Viktor cups his cheeks. “You look… not good.”

“I'll be alright now.” Yuuri sinks his head against Viktor's chest. “Can… we go get something to drink? I'm really thirsty.”

Viktor kisses his forehead, hugging him once more. “Only if I can carry you.”

“Oh get a room..” Yura rolls his eyes, but the moment Viktor gets up, he's right alongside him. He doesn't want to be alone at all for the rest of the night…

“Do you want to be carried too, Princess?” The professor adds in Yura’s direction.

“Not a chance in hell.”

For a moment, there's a bit of peace. The group of four exits the lounge and prepare to walk back down to the kitchen. Yuuri's eyes are shut as he rests against Viktor, body looking everything but alive. He's dead tired…

And Viktor, for once, isn't being a total dickwad. He isn't grabbing any areas or being perverted. Wow, maybe he isn't a complete piece of—

_Ding-dong._

The doorbell!

Everyone freezes. Because this is it, this has to be it. The police have surely arrived. One of them, maybe all of them, will be arrested.

No one dares breathe, move, anything. They are all staring at the door, like whoever’s there will go away on their own.

And then, the doorknob clicks. It’s opening. _It’s opening!_

Yura’s heart is in his throat, but he just wears a large frown, like he’s annoyed and totally innocent. But he’s scared! The police! Are!--- 

The pompous figure in the doorframe wears a bright smile and a fancy, yet weird looking costume, and starts to obnoxiously scat.

“Christ…”

“ _I am your singing telegram_! I-”

 _Pow_! The “singing telegram” drops to the ground in a heap. They’ve been shot!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't seen the Clue Movie, you'll have no idea what these references are. I recommend doing a YouTube search of the singing telegram. I really do.
> 
> See you next time!
> 
> Red


	7. Chapter Six: The Dining Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tired of Yuuri's safety being threatened, Viktor makes a decision that will alter the course of the night, and discovers the truth about his and Yuuri's marriage that's been hidden in plain sight all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for checking back in with the Clue AU guys!!! Idk if the next chapter will be posted on the 22nd, 29th, or after that as I'll be on vacation next Saturday for that week and the signal sucks. Either way, it's soon, and if you haven't read my Teacher AU (aka Daffodils in the Snow!) I'll be updating that one on the 23rd!

"There is a time and a place for everything, but we failed on both of those aspects." Pacing back and forth in front of the six guests, Phichit has a lot on his plate. One, no, two bodies now to take care of, and now two murders to solve! Honestly, he's just planning on picking a random person and crying wolf. And right now, he can't take his eyes off Yuuri. Yuuri Nikiforov....   
  
"Will you please get your clown act together and let us go home?" Chris asks crossly.    
  
"Just take our statements and let us go. There's no reason to keep six innocent people." Georgi adds.   
  
"Five," Phichit replies wryly, sitting on the coffee table across from Yuuri and Viktor. Yuuri's currently sound asleep against Viktor's shoulder, as he has been for a good thirty minutes. To wake such a beautiful person would be a sin.    
  
"Stop looking at him like that," Viktor glares up at him, smoothing the blanket that covers Yuuri's body. "Ask your questions. I can answer for both of us."   
  
"Very well," Phichit rests his chin on his knee. "Where were you after the party ended, Viktor Nikiforov? Where was Yuuri Nikiforov? Were you together?"   
  
"Well, no..." Viktor frowns. "We'd gotten into an argument earlier on. I was in the billiard room with Chris and Georgi and this bozo Leroy here. Yuuri was, I presume, in the washroom the entire time."   
  
"I meant before that."   
  
At this, Viktor leans back and pauses. "I was still in the ballroom, of course. Very early on into the night I spoke with Mr. Feltsman, but I can assure you he was very much alive when we went our separate ways."    
  
"And Yuuri?"   
  
"I'm not sure where he was, but he was probably on the dance floor with some of these men."    
  
"And you, Viktor Nikiforov, not knowing where your spouse was, opens the door to him possibly being the murderer."    
  
"Shut up, Yuuri's innocent," Yura snaps. "The pig was definitely in the ballroom all night. He wouldn't have had five minutes to slip away."   
  
And everyone knows that. Yuuri charmed all the guests and had a line of men and women waiting for their turn to dance with him. He'd had so much energy, been filled with so much life at the beginning of the night. If only he had the chance to go home after the party and continue that mood. Viktor would've explained the divorce to him and Yuuri would announce the pregnancy and all would be forgiven. They'd share a bed, pressed together as if there was nothing else in the entire world. And come December, they'd be the most content of families.    
  
Unfortunately, Yura and even Yuuri himself knows this isn't to be. He'll lose the baby. Everyone will go to court as witnesses, regardless. Him and Viktor will go their separate ways. He'll never have a baby.    
  
No, don't think that way, he'd already told himself time after time.    
The only way he'd stayed sane all night is by putting his mind in a different place. Another time.    
  
It's the early thirties, he believes. He had three children; a boy and two girls. The boy and girl are twins, both a perfect blend of their parents. They don't live in the boring old mansion anymore, but rather a cottage in their seaside town. White picket fence.    
  
Viktor has a less stressful job that makes him happier. He always comes home with the brightest of smiles. The children adore him almost as much as Yuuri does.    
  
Almost.    
  
"Yuuri, love..." he feels his shoulder gently being shaken, alerting him that he's waking up, that it's all been a dream again. He wishes it wasn't...   
But it doesn't have to be a dream. He can make it a reality someday, he knows he can.    
  
"Mr. Chulanont needs you to answer some questions," Viktor says, but he's hardly listening. His eyes flit down to Yuuri's middle, then back up to his eyes. "Everyone feeling better?"   
  
Yuuri nods, something incredibly soft in his expression and eyes, "We're much better. Thank you." He wraps his arms around Viktor's neck, and presses his forehead against the other man's. "I can't wait to go home with you."   
  
Yuuri doesn't seem to realize they're surrounded by gawking men. Either that, or he doesn't care. Maybe Viktor shouldn't either. "I love you, Viktor. I love you..." The one thing Viktor doesn't understand, though, is why Yuuri's doing this. He's now crawled into Viktor's lap, straddled his waist, and hugs his neck tightly. "I love you."   
  
Viktor's... not exactly embarrassed, it's just... there's five men watching them uncomfortably, staring at Yuuri's ass no doubt, and probably expecting Viktor to toss Yuuri to the side, brushing him off with a harsh comment about how they shouldn't show any public display of affection. But instead, he smiles, hugs back, and whispers in his ear, "I love you too. Now do you think you can answer those questions so we can—" he is cut off with a kiss to the lips, so luring and full that he can't pull away. His cheeks are quite obviously red. This is...    
  
"I'm going back to sleep," Yuuri kisses him again, "and you're going to let me, because you know I need it."   
  
"B-But Mr. Chulanont needs you to–"   
  
"Whatever question he needs answered I'm sure you can provide.." he whispers, cheek pressed against his. "You know me better than anybody, don't you?"   
  
"Yes. Yes, I do."   
  
Yuuri smiles, kissing his temple. "Good." He then turns Viktor to face him, gliding their lips together. "Good, Viktor. I'm so tired..." Viktor's melting, God, he can barely breathe... he's... so in love... but... aren't they supposed to be doing something? They're not at home, they can't...   
  
"Yuuri, rest then. We can't be.."   
Yuuri's eyes are already shut as he lays against Viktor's shoulder, still in his lap. He sighs.    
"Yuuri won't answer any questions," Viktor says to their audience. "I'm sorry. He's stubborn, and too sleepy. There's really nothing I can do."   
  
"I think you're the one that's stubborn." The butler scowls, rising from his chair. In just a stride he's at the couch, grabs Yuuri's arm and yanks him backwards before Viktor can do anything about it. "Where were you at the time of the murder, you sinful whore?"   
  
"Get off of him!" Yura and Viktor say pretty much simultaneously, although Viktor does the action of kicking the butler backwards.    
"You cannot touch him. You stay away from him!" Viktor's eyes narrow. "And who's to say you're not the killer, anyway? Where were YOU at the time of the murder, Mr. Chulanont?"   
  
"How dare you assume it was me!"    
  
"I have every right to believe it was you. After all, you've been pinning this murder on me and my husband all night."   
  
"And using every chance he can get to hurt Yuuri." Yura adds. "Knowing damn well it was us in the passage, he went straight for Yuuri and kicked him in the back. He fell onto the ground, and this asshole did nothing."   
  
"He also made threats towards Yuuri during the party, spewing some bullshit that an investigator was coming in the morning to arrest him. He threatened me as well." Chris adds.    
  
"You threatened Yuuri?" Viktor's pissed. Like, beyond pissed. Not just at Phichit, but at himself. He'd been so hard on Yuuri all night, at the dinner and during the dance.    
  
As if reading his mind, Yuuri hugs him a little tighter. "Don't kill him over it."   
  
All Viktor does is stand, carefully helping Yuuri to his feet. He walks out of the room with him.    
  
"And just where do you think you're going, huh?"   
  
"Shut the fuck up and let them be."   
  


* * *

  
"Viktor, where are we going?" Yuuri asks softly upon reaching the hallway. "hey... what's wrong?"   
  
"I've made a decision for the greater good of both of us." Viktor says, squeezing his hand. Yuuri’s scanning his face, the most confused expression on his face. Viktor breathes in. "You know how to get home from here, don't you? And you're a good enough driver. Right, Yuuri?"   
  
"Viktor, I don't understand. What's going on?"   
  
"I need you to drive yourself back to our house—"   
"Viktor, I–"   
"Shh, listen. Drive yourself home and pack up whatever will fit in the car. Get some rest too. Then..."   
"I can't do that!"   
"Yes you can! Tomorrow morning, soon as the bank opens, pull out enough money for a bail should any of us get arrested. And then we're getting out of the area until that baby is safely delivered. Would your parents mind guests?"   
  
"My.. parents? Viktor..."   
  
Viktor presses a shaky kiss to his lips. "I care for you too much to let anyone hurt you. Now go home, and don't look back. Please."   
  
"I can't leave you." Yuuri protests. "I can't. I can't..."   
  
"Yuuri..." He hugs him once more. "I'm asking you this to save both of us. Will you do this for me? And if not for me," he places a hand over Yuuri's stomach, "for our family?"   
  
"Okay.." Yuuri sighs, finally convinced. "I will. For both of you."   
  
Viktor walks with him outside, never letting go of his hand. He doesn't know when they'll be together next; whether it be a few hours from now or never again. The night has been too unpredictable.    
  
And he waits until they reach their car to let go. Yuuri timidly slides into the driver's seat, starts the engine, then turns to look at him. "I want to come back for you later in the morning."   
  
"I'll be here."   
  
"And I want Yura to come stay with us, no matter where we go."   
  
"As you wish, darling. Drive safe." 

Yuuri leans out of the car and grabs Viktor by the tie, pulling him in for a parting kiss. “Stay alive, Viktor Nikiforov.”   
  
Viktor watches their car slowly roll down the driveway, and he can't help but fight back tears. He wants to be in the car with him, and can't help but wonder what would've happened if they hadn't spotted Feltsman's body in the yard.    
  
They would've gone home, maybe gone into separate rooms, and everything would've continued as it was before. Maybe that wasn't the best thing. Things weren't exactly great before, were they?   
  
Their marriage had been failing, even if it never really was there, whether he wanted to admit either of those truths or not. But now? Everything feels different. He feels closer to Yuuri than he ever has, and watching him drive away causes a pain in his heart that he hadn't experienced before... what the hell is this all about? Love is strange.   
  
But love is wonderful, too. And even though they're in terrible danger, it's still wonderful. Yuuri Katsuki is just wonderful, period. 

* * *

  
  
_ August, 1920 _

_ Upbeat music played nearby as Yuri Plisetsky downed the last of his beverage and watched his cousin take his next turn in their game of bowling. It was a family gathering, featuring him, his grandfather, a few cousins and the newlywed Nikiforovs, who- in his opinion, needed to keep their hands off each other.  _

_ Viktor swung his arm and released the bowling ball, throwing a fist into the air when he knocked down all the pins. And Yuuri, only a little tipsy, cheered for him, then threw his arms around his neck. Disgusting, he thought. “Just got back from their honeymoon, didn’t they?” Yuri’s grandfather murmured in what seemed to be disapproval. _

_ “Can you tell? The asshole went all out this time, took him to London and Paris and Rome to show him off. They haven’t shut up since they got home.” Yuri shook his head in despair. “I can’t stand it a moment longer.” _

_ His grandfather frowned. “And what do you think of Yuuri, really?” _

_ Yuri turned back towards the couple, who were now kissing- again- too lost in each other to care about the outside world. “He makes Viktor happy. Gotta be here for a reason, I guess.” _

_ “I feel sorry for him,” Said another one of his cousins, “He doesn’t realize what a mistake he’s made in marrying outside our social status. He’s the sole heir to that massive fortune and had such high expectations placed on him. Now, he’s let us all down.” _

_ “How so?”  _

_ His cousin glanced around to make sure no one was listening that shouldn’t hear what he had to say. “They say Yuuri had an affair and everyone knew it. Viktor was the one he…” _

_ “Hey, did you all save any pizza for us? I’m starving.” Viktor, arm slung around Yuuri, has suddenly appeared before them. That conversation will have to wait. _

_ “There’s just one piece left. Sorry, Yuri’s a pig.” Yuri’s grandfather nudged him.  _

_ “That’s alright, I’ll go order more. Will you behave while I’m gone?” Viktor let go of his new spouse, eyes shining. _

_ “If I must. Hurry back…” Yuuri pressed a sort of quick kiss to his lips, flashing a smile. _

_ And once Viktor left, the air turned quite awkward. But Yuuri, if anything, was a charmer. No one could resist talking to him once he began. On that day, he was wearing a casual dress shirt with suspenders and brand new slacks. His hair was freshly cut and styled so that it was slicked back, and really, he was rather handsome. He leaned forward, smirking at the older men across from him. “You’ve all been staring at me all night. I’m not going to pretend I haven’t noticed. Does my ass really look that good?”  _

_ And for the older men at least, lying proved to be difficult. Yuuri laughed, something soft and contagious. “I’m just messing with you all. I don’t believe we’ve met properly, have we? I’m Yuuri, Yuuri Katsuki. Well… Yuuri Nikiforov, I guess now.”  _

_ “Nikolai Plisetsky, Yura’s grandfather.” The oldest man tipped his hat. _

_ “I’m Alex Nikiforov, Viktor’s cousin, and this is my brother Max.”  _

_ Yuuri nodded, reaching forward to shake their hands. They held on a little too long. “Well, tell me about yourselves! I’m new to New York, and quite honestly I know nothing about the area or your wonderful family and would love to know!” _

_ Within the remainder of the night, Yuuri had everyone wrapped around his finger, and gained approval from all except Yuri. He also, not surprisingly, became rather drunk, and could barely walk outside to he and Viktor’s car, so his husband had to hold him up. But still, he seemed so giddy, like he’d truly enjoyed himself.  _

_ And yet, by the time they reached their home and were illuminated by the porch lights, Viktor noticed the tear stained littering his beloved’s cheeks, and wondered why he hadn’t noticed them there before Yuuri had fallen asleep. There was so much he didn’t know about him, so much he wanted to know, and so much he knew he never would.  _

_ With a much more heaviness in his heart, Viktor lifted Yuuri and carried him upstairs to his bedroom. And before he could let go, the way Yuuri hugged his neck told him that he should stay, at least just for the night. _

_ He did. _

* * *

 

It was always when Yuuri smiled the brightest that Viktor assumed he was the happiest. But now, he was beginning to realize that perhaps that smile had never truly been genuine, that it was only to satisfy Viktor and not himself. 

How long had Yuuri been so unhappy and in pain in their marriage? 

How long now had he been crying himself to sleep while Viktor slept soundly in the other room? 

Damn, what a horrible husband he’d been. He’d always said he loved Yuuri without hesitation, but now he wasn’t sure Yuuri believed he meant it. 

“Damn it, my love,” Viktor says to himself, taking a seat on the front porch. “How will I ever make it up to you for the horrors I’ve unknowingly done?” 

And how many times… dare he wonder, has Yuuri carried a child of his before and never said anything about it? He didn’t seem excited at all about their current baby, or even the slightest bit nervous like a first timer should have been. Perhaps he never had been pregnant before, but… there had been missed heats, strange behavior and times when Yuuri locked himself in his bedroom for several days at a time, and Viktor never actually had the sense to ask why. 

The garden…

That was another giveaway.

When they first moved into the house, Yuuri took no interest in the garden. He said it was lovely, yes, but that he didn’t like dirt or the heat, so don’t expect him to plant an extravagant flowerbed. Viktor didn’t mind that, as he had no care for plants either.

But one day, in mid July of 1920, he’d came home to Yuuri in the garden- the back part, over by the property line- planting several already-grown primroses.

“What are you up to, darling?”

Yuuri quickly wiped his cheeks, shocked to see his husband. Viktor assumed he was wiping away sweat, as he was too far away to get a good look at him. “P-Planting flowers?” And again, he flashed a bright smile. “I thought they’d look nice here, is all…”

“They look lovely.”

“I know.”

“Why don’t you come inside for a drink? I just bought some of that good wine you like.”

“Maybe later.”

And at that point, they had stopped sleeping together every night, so Viktor never noticed Yuuri come inside and go to his room. The walls must’ve been too thick.

Spring of 1921 was when he noticed Yuuri out in the garden again, this time planting a row of daisies. He never gardened anything else after that, and let it wither on its own. 

He never stopped and wondered why that was.

But looking back now, he realized just a few days ago that Yuuri had been out in the garden again, this time planting bright yellow daffodils.

Primroses and daisies- he knew the symbolization behind those. Primroses and daisies meant something along the lines of children and innocence. And daffodils, he realizes, symbolize new life.

Has Yuuri been trying to tell him the truth the whole time? Why couldn’t Viktor have been more attentive to the obvious facts right in front of him? Why was he such a wickedly selfish person? 

Nodding to himself, he decides to come inside after about a half hour. He enters the hall and goes straight for the telephone, dialing home without really thinking about why or if it was a good idea.

“Nikiforov residence…” Comes a sleepy voice Viktor recognizes as the lead maid. 

“Lilia. Is Yuuri home yet?”

“Yuuri… what’s going on, Master? I assumed he was with you?”

“I sent him home. Please, when he gets home, tell him to telephone me. I need to talk to him! I need to tell him that I-“

“He’s here, sir. I see the car lights. I’ll relay the message, stay on the line.”

“Just tell him, please. I don’t know how much longer I can talk…” Thunder rumbles loudly overhead, threatening another storm.

“Tell him what, sir?”

‘’That I love him, and that I’m so sorry for not noticing the flowers.” The line cuts dead, along with the power in Feltsman’s home.

_ From now on, I'm going to really listen to Yuuri, focus all my time and attention on him. I promised him the world, but all I've given him is pain. _

* * *

Yuuri manages to make it home in a half hour. He speeds to nearly the car's limit until he can see the lights of his mansion. The front door swings open before he even parks, and Lilia is coming down the steps. "Master? What on earth happened tonight?"    
  
Yuuri brushes past her.    
  
"Master, it's two forty five. Are you alright? Where's Viktor?"   
  
"The party. The party went terribly wrong." He hurries up the steps, legs aching from exhaustion. "He's still there. He can't leave... there's been a murder."   
  
"Yuuri...." she rushes to catch up to him, calling for another maid to draw a bath for him. "Calm down. I’m sure the police are handling everything, yes?"   
  
"No, he wants me to go pull out as much as I can in the morning in case he gets arrested when they come." Yuuri knows he shouldn't be telling anyone this, but Lilia saved his life in the past. He feels like he can trust her. "And I may have to leave for a while. I just don't know what to expect."   
  
"Well, there's time for that talk later. I'll send for a maid to draw you a nice bath. I'll set aside some pajamas for you, too, and then you and I can finish talking."   
  
As much as he wants to protest, a bath does sound good. Just not too hot. 

“One last thing, Master. Viktor just called.”

“He… he did? Why?” 

Lilia hesitates. “Take your bath first. You need to relax.” 

“I’d like to know what he said, thank you.” Yuuri feels a strange urge to vomit, bubbling in the pit of his stomach. Great.

“He asked for you to call. He sends his love, and apologized for something like not noticing flowers in the garden? It’s beyond me, but he really wanted you to know.”   
  
So he takes a bath after stripping out of the gown. The water feels heavenly against his skin, and he washes all evidence of the night off of his skin. He should feel anew. But instead, his body is trembling as he rests his head against his knees. “Oh, Vitya, I’m sorry you know. I should’ve told you… I should’ve told you…”  
  
Yuuri puts on his most comfortable pajamas and robe, then finds his way to his bedroom where a hot cup of tea is waiting. He downs it right away, but abandons his room to find refuge elsewhere. Viktor’s room would be preferable, and besides, he hardly ever goes in there anyway. When he slips out of his bedroom, he can see several maids going back to their quarters to try and get some sleep. He’ll be alone. Nodding to himself, Yuuri goes downstairs to Viktor’s office, the only place with a telephone in the house. With trembling fingers, he calls the only person he can think of. He knows it’s three in the morning, and she’ll be asleep, but he doesn’t care. He needs help, and soon.

“...Hello?” Comes a thickly accented woman.

“Mom, it’s me.” Yuuri already feels faint; it’s been so long since he’s heard his mother’s voice, and he didn’t realize how much he missed her until that moment. “I need help, I’m in trouble.”

“Yuuri…? Where are you, what’s happened?” Right, it’s ridiculous for him to call her. It’s not like she can come over unless she actually wanted to, being that her and Mari were currently staying with relatives in New York City. But she wouldn’t want to. Of course she wouldn’t want to.

“I’m… I’m at home…” God, this was stupid. His throat was choking up now, so forget having a coherent conversation. “I uh… went to a party with Viktor and someone got killed so they wouldn’t let us leave? But I escaped, and I’m home by myself and I don’t know if Viktor’s going to be okay or the baby because I’m probably going to lose this one too, and I’m scared and I didn’t know where else to turn! I’m so scared, Mom…” Here he goes crying again, goddamnit. “And what’s worse is I’m definitely pregnant and this morning sickness is going to kill me. You had remedies back home, remember? Aha… fuck…”

“Yuuri, where do you live? I don’t think you ever gave us an address. Maybe I can come in the morning.” Her voice is careful, almost hesitant. It’s not very comforting. “And congratulations, by the way.”

Yuuri whimpers, pressing his face against the wall. “You were never there for me… before. And I really needed you. And need you even more right now!”

“How could I be there for you, Yuuri? With every marriage you- you moved farther away. We didn’t get a car until last year. What, was I supposed to walk? And what stopped you from coming here?” She sounds generally curious, not accusing, but this conversation isn’t going the way he would’ve liked.

“Yeah, right, because in between beatings I was supposed to ask old Altin to drag me and his nine kids down to Georgia, right? Makes sense.” 

“You married a young gentleman after that who I know treats you very kindly and would probably give you whatever you asked. I understand, Yuuri. You didn’t want to see us. You had a right to be angry.”

Now he’s grown frustrated. “I don’t want to talk about this right now! I called asking for help, not this! My husband is going to die!” He hangs up the phone, sits down at Viktor’s desk, and doesn’t remember much after that. He just knows he finally got some rest.

 

* * *

“Mr. Feltsman wanted you all here together for a reason.” Phichit sits at his old master’s desk in the study. “Let’s take this to the dining room, shall we?” 

He brings a stack of papers and is followed into the room, then waits until everyone else has sat down. “Feltsman wasn’t just investigating Yuuri’s past. He’s been blackmailing all of you for quite some time now, yes?”

“Or something like that…” Viktor murmurs.

“I didn’t know his reasons behind that until tonight. Before, I figured all of you were lovely people who didn’t deserve this, but Feltsman thought otherwise. I don’t want to embarrass anyone, but I figure I should read off the list. Youngest to oldest.”

**Yuri Plisetsky, born March 1st, 1904, has been invited to an afterparty at my home tomorrow. Each of the six guests I’ve invited is going to be confronted on their various crimes. They will either pay double to keep me silent, or be arrested when my good friend arrives, a private investigator from Washington who has been helping me with the case.**

**Yuri Plisetsky is responsible for being allegedly part of the Russian Mafia branch in New York City. His grandfather was good friends with its leader until he died last fall, and it is suspected that Yuri now leads a portion of the crime group. Regardless, he has approximately seventeen injuries and four murders under his belt, at the young age of eighteen.**

Yuri hangs his head, but says nothing. Viktor’s eyes are the size of saucers; as if he never knew his mother’s side of the family had been involved in the mafia at all. Considering his overall ignorance, it’s quite possible, really.

**Yuuri Katsuki Nikiforov, born November 29th, 1898, will be accompanying his spouse of two years to the afterparty. He has been married four times in his young life, two of those spouses dying under Yuuri’s care, one divorcing him suddenly, and the final being Viktor, whom he had an affair with while married to Garri Altin.**

**Dates of Marriages:**

**November 30th, 1916**

**(divorced in 1917)**

**June 14th, 1917**

**(widowed in March 1918)**

**March 21st, 1918**

**(widowed in April, 1920)**

**April 19th, 1920**

**Besides the alleged murders of past spouses, it is also suspected that he is an accomplice to Viktor Nikiforov’s violence towards yours truly.**

Viktor’s face is red. Everyone knew Yuuri had been married before, but not how many times and the dates of them. It made it seem like Yuuri was some kind of black widow, but Viktor knew he was innocent in all those relationships. Yuuri would never hurt someone else!

**Jean Jacques Leroy, born July 15th, 1897, is suspected to have killed off his wife’s lover in jealousy. Currently, he works in New York City and has close ties with an enemy group in Washington, against the president of the United States. He has planned assassinations against several government officials.**

“Yeah, I did that. But I didn’t commit any goddamn crimes, alright? Washington’s corrupt, I’ve just made that very clear. But I haven’t hurt a fly!”

“Mr. Leroy, if you will.”

**Viktor Nikiforov, born December 25th, 1894, has been harassing me for years, and currently sends people to attempt and blackmail me for not approving his and Y.K.’s adoption of a child. He married my daughter a decade ago, then swiftly swept it under the rug and tried to divorce her. I denied that request without telling him as punishment, and he has threatened my life over it. He is not married to Yuuri Katsuki, but rather, my daughter.**

**He has been having an open affair for two years shamelessly.**

Viktor swallows hard, stands up, and leaves the room. He’s tired of being shamed for a mistake he didn’t know he made. He can’t wait for the divorce to finalize!!!

**Professor Georgi Popovich, born December 26th, 1890, gave several patients unprescribed medications in exchange for personal funds. His title was stripped, but again, swept under the rug. He knew of Yuuri Katsuki’s affair and supported him openly. He was struggling to get my approval to regain his title.**

**And finally, Colonel Christophe Giacometti of Switzerland, born February 14th, 1886. He is hailed as a war hero despite committing treason in the war and having an openly promiscuous homosexual relationship with another officer. After the war, he resigned and demanded I approve of he and his now spouse’s marriage, threatening to have me “taken out” if I didn’t do as commanded. He also has stolen highly classified information from the Pentagon and keeps it as blackmail towards members there. He’s no hero.**

Phichit looks up at the men. “We’re all in deep shit. I know how you’re all feeling. All we can do at this point is hide the bodies and proclaim our innocence. The only one who really looks suspicious is Yuuri, because he left. I’d say he just might be in danger.” He walks to the door, locking eyes with Viktor as he hands him Yuuri's paper. "I didn't want to read this out loud."

**The plan is to further blackmail the Nikiforovs as a punishment for all the things Viktor has done to myself and my business. He will either give Yuuri to me to keep, or I will die at the party tomorrow night and the blood will be on Viktor's hands.**

**I presume he'll choose the first option,** **reluctantly. I already have the ring ready...**

* * *

  
Yuuri wakes up behind the wheel of his car. For a moment, he can't tell if everything was a dream, until he feels the pajamas against his legs. Jolting to alertness, he looks outside and finds it to be sunrise. How long has he been sitting here? What time is it? 

His gown is on the passenger seat beside him, strangely, as if he grabbed it before he left. That’s another question. Where is he now? Rubbing his eyes, he steps out of the car. Oh. He’s still in his own driveway. 

_ Okay, I need to process what’s happened. I somehow ended up in my car, bringing the ripped dress for God knows what reason. _

He vaguely remembers getting out of bed to leave, but his legs felt like lead. He stuffed two filled suitcases into the trunk, but he must’ve fallen asleep before he could leave.    
  
It doesn't matter. He steps on the gas and drives back to Feltsman's manor.    
  
It's six thirty in the morning now. Time is running out.  

_ Think rationally, Yuuri. There’s still time.  _

_The baby’s okay still. Besides falling and having a little wine, I've done it no harm. I’m still breathing, and the police probably haven’t done anything. I just need to get our money at some point, pick up Viktor, and go home to safety. My heart’s not pounding in my chest, and my stomach feels much better. There’s hope._  
  
He gets out of his car, slamming the door shut behind him, and hurried up the steps to the front door. It's locked. So he goes to the kitchen door, obviously. Unlocked.   
  
A fire is burning under a large cauldron, and something's brewing inside. There's blood dragging from the counter to the door, faded. Not fresh. But still...  
  
Where's Viktor?  
  
His heartbeat quickens and the sickness returns to the pit of his stomach. Fuck! The fucking aura of this house is anything but pleasant!!! And if anything were to happen to Viktor, he'd....  
  
No, Viktor's going to live. Even if Yuuri himself does not.   
  
He opens the kitchen door and listens for any sound of life. Nothing.   
Perhaps everyone's asleep?  
  
It'll probably be stupid to call out to Viktor, but he's growing scared... what if something horrible happened?   
  
He can't be a widow again. He doesn't want to wear that title... he...  
  
His stomach lurches, tying his insides into a knot.  
  
"Viktor... Viktor Nikiforov!" His lips move quicker than his brain as he shouts for him, voice echoing off the walls. His heart feels like it's going to explode in his chest, and suddenly his view is blurry; dazed........ "Viktor..."  
And then it happens.   
  
Just the slightest flutter inside of him in the area he knows to be the uterus, something that makes all of his trouble melt away. He thinks it must be a coincidence, then it happens again. The baby's moving. It's still alive.   
  
He covers his mouth while placing another over his middle, stifling a sob, a laugh, something between both. _Thank you...._  
  
"Hang in there, little one," he says softly, "please... for your papa and me. We need you more than you know..."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now before y'all come at me like "babies don't move that early" I'll hit you with some facts.
> 
> 1\. Yuuri is ROUGHLY 12-13 weeks at this point. SOME people report feeling that fluttering sensation as early as 10-11 weeks, most commonly if it's after your first pregnancy. My mom always felt hers move around that time too, but it can't be defined as a "kick", and people on the outside wouldn't be able to feel it. Still, a possible sign of life???? Yuuri is having an indestructible baby??? 
> 
> 2\. By the time you read this, it'll be my birthday (7/15) and yes, I know I share one with JJ. It's a weird thing and I'm not ready to be spammed with pics of the Canadian tomorrow, God help me. 
> 
> 3\. I really appreciate all the comments here and on Discord and suggestions I've been getting! I'm considering some sort of continuation of this fic in the future, but nothing confirmed yet. Just something to think about during the wait!
> 
> See you all next time!!!
> 
> By next time, I mean: Two more sudden deaths as the sun rises. They've all given up. What use is it to run and hide now? Well, Chris tries to, anyway.


	8. Chapter Seven: The Passage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri decides that he's tired of the way he's been treated, and wants to do something about it. Had it not been for the bloodbath, he may have succeeded.

 

_ 1920 _

_“When can I open my eyes, Viktor?” Yuuri whined impatiently against Viktor’s gloved hands as he was led into his new quarters, stomach lurching in excitement. Viktor had been mentioning his room in plural, as if he were to have more than one- can you imagine?_

_“We’re nearly there. No peeking…”_

_“I’m not, I’m just impatient if anything.” He says softly, curling his pink fingernails around Viktor’s hands to try and move them._

_“Impatient, pretty little baby…”_

_“Come on, I’m too excited!! What is it??” Yuuri had been “excited” for their entire honeymoon across Europe, for it was the first time he’d traveled for fun and not marital purposes. Now that they were home, though, to properly settle in this time, he hadn’t calmed down a bit. Viktor now wishes he could go back to that time…_

_“I had it built and decorated for you while we were away so you wouldn’t suspect anything. I hope you’ll like it.” They stopped in front of a pair of large, oak doors, and Viktor uncovered Yuuri’s eyes to push them open._

_Yuuri stepped forward, taking in the sight of the room that smelled of fresh paint and brand new furniture. Everything was fresh, polished, more expensive than anything he’d ever had before. And then he looked to the walls._

_Shelves upon shelves of books covered nearly every portion of the four walls, save for the large windows, and were half filled with books on every topic Yuuri could think of- and far more than he could probably read._

_“I want you to go out and buy the ones you want, in the future, or whenever. I uh… heh… didn’t really know what you liked reading.”_

_“Is this for me?” Yuuri sucked in a breath, turning back to look at Viktor._

_“Yeah. It’s all for you.”_

_“Viktor!” He squealed, throwing himself into Viktor’s arms, thanking him countlessly all while hugging him over and over again._

_“And if you like, I will hire a tutor to help you improve your reading and writing. You’ve already advanced quite dramatically during our Europe trip, and I bet in another few months you will be reading better than I can.”_

_And he did as promised, but Yuuri soon realized that this library wasn’t just a gift, but rather a distraction tool so that he wouldn’t notice just how busy Viktor was most days, now that he assumed the role his father had set aside for him in the family business some years ago._

_Some nights, Viktor wouldn’t come to bed until after midnight, and soon enough didn't come to Yuuri’s room at all, most of the time falling asleep in his office._

_Yuuri caught him on one occasion in late October. It was awfully chilly in the house, so he wrapped a robe around himself and tried to make his search for Viktor as quick as possible. He, of course, finds him asleep in his office, head against his desk on a pile of unfinished paperwork. It looked simple enough, just needing his signature stamped on and to check which box applies or if he agrees to so and so. He believed he could do it for him._

_“Vitya, honey… it’s nearly midnight. Why don’t you come up to bed?” He whispered against the sleeping man’s ear. “Come on, you’re going to get all sorts of back pain.”_  
_Viktor’s eyes fluttered open, and he was so tired he didn’t even attempt to protest. Yuuri led him upstairs to his bedroom, made sure he was settled, then went back downstairs to work on whatever Viktor had to do. (Conveniently, Viktor had a list beside that paperwork of which companies to sign for and which to toss into the fire.)_

_It’s somewhere around three thirty when he finally finishes the last of them off, stuffing them into a drawer and then sluggishly finding his way up the steps to Viktor’s room. He flopped onto the bed and fell asleep almost instantly._

_It was after ten the following morning when he was awoken by a servant._

_“Mmm?”_

_“Sorry to wake you, Master Yuuri, but you have a phone call downstairs. It’s Viktor.”_  
_He couldn’t help but smile, rushing down the steps to the office and picked up the phone. He was expecting a heartfelt thank you for all the work Yuuri had done. “Hello?”_

_“Yuuri, I’m so sorry to bother you…” Viktor sounded flustered, and wherever he was seemed to be very busy. “Could you possibly do a huge favor for me?”_  
_Yuuri was actually needed for something? “Sure! What is it?”_

_“I was working on paperwork last night, and I must’ve forgotten it at home. I really have to finish it by this afternoon, so if it wouldn’t be any trouble, could you have someone bring it to my office?”_

_Yuuri’s face lit up. “Yeah. They’ll be there soon.”_

_“You are a lifesaver, Yuuri Katsuki.”_  
_“Yuuri Nikiforov now. Get back to work!”_

_Yuuri hung up the phone and went back up to his room to get dressed in what seemed like church clothes; a calf-length black gown and white coat to go along with it, a pair of black flats, and a hat from his ridiculously large collection. He then fixed up his hair and was ready to go._  
_He drove himself, which was quite thrilling, and finally marched (a little hesitantly) up to Viktor’s main office in downtown Manhattan._

_He was quite obviously stopped at the front desk by a rather unfriendly looking man whose nameplate said ‘M. Crispino.’. “Yeah...We don’t do charity, we aren’t interested in accepting donations or giving out sponsorships, and Viktor Nikiforov is a very busy man. Have a nice day.”_

_“Um, no, no, that’s not why I’m here.” Yuuri set a large, brown envelope on the counter. “This is for Viktor, he asked me to bring it to him.”_

_M. Crispino, whose nametag said “Michele”, raised an eyebrow. Nobody called Viktor anything except sir, or Mr. Nikiforov. “Uh-huh… I’m sure he did… because asking strangers to bring in random envelopes is something we see on the daily here.”_

_Yuuri blushed out of frustration, removing the small hat he wore. “I’ll have you know, Viktor has a photograph of me in his office. I’m hardly a stranger!” He took the envelope back. “My name is Yuuri Nikiforov, Viktor’s spouse! Now if you will, I’d like to deliver this to him myself. Where’s his office?”_

_Michele gulped. “Upstairs, last door on your left, uh, sir…”_

_He smiled at the secretary. “Thank you. Have a nice day.” As he began to walk away, the secretary called after him that he'd forgotten his hat. Okay, he wasn't perfect. He was trying his best. Sure, he still bobs his head down when noticing someone he recognizes (Otabek Altin, of all people!), blushes profusely when complimented, and leaves Viktor's office incredibly flustered, adjusting his gown where it was still lifted, but reflecting personally, he still was successful in his mission of lightening Viktor's work load._

_Yuuri, up to currently, never visited Viktor’s office very often unless he needed to pick up or drop off paperwork. He liked considering himself Viktor’s assistant, he liked having something to do that made Viktor less stressed, instead of being cooped up in his house all day._

  
_Michele nodded to Yuuri when he left the building, and Yuuri felt good about himself, all up until he reached the parking lot to find…_  
_the spot where his car had been parked…._  
_was empty._

_Glancing around frantically, he soon realized that his car was stolen. And his mood dropped._

_~~~_

_“Yuuri, I’m home!!” Viktor called cheerfully, dropping his briefcase in the hall. He didn't notice the missing car in its usual place in the front yard; he was quite oblivious. “Yuuuri! Where are you? I want to take you to dinner as a thank you for the hard work you did! I made reservations!” He said, striding up the stairs to Yuuri's bedroom. “Yuuri?”_

_Yuuri groaned softly, burying his face further into the blanket. He'd been crying in bed for ages, so guilty, disgusted with himself for allowing someone to steal his car…_

_He went to his bank and requested to pull out as much money as possible…_

_“Yuuri, are you sleeping?”_

_He sniffled, entirely by accident. “I messed up.”_

_“Messed up?” Viktor smiled faintly, tip toeing to his bedside. “Tell me what happened. We can fix it.”_

_“No…”_  
_“And why not?”_  
_“B-Because you'll be mad at me!”_  
_“I promise to remain calm. I won't yell at you.”_  
_Yuuri wiped his mascara tears away. “Someone stole the car when I went to visit you. I'm so sorry…!” He cried into his pillow in a muffled mess. “I'll never leave the house a-again… I just– I don't know who could've stolen it! I- I parked in the lot with the security guard? And he told me he didn't see anyone take it. Of course, he could've just not noticed, but…” he sucked in a breath. “I'll buy another car, with my own money. I swear.”_

_“Yuuri… that isn’t your fault. If someone stole it, they committed the crime, not you. You always take the blame for things that aren’t your fault. I suppose it’s what you’re used to, but that’s not what you deserve. If you didn’t do it, why should you be blamed for it? I’m not angry with you at all.” Viktor sat on the bed, “But when I find the bastard who stole it, I’ll punch their lights out. Cheer up, okay? We’ll get another one.”_

_“It just seems like I can’t do anything right.” Yuuri whined as if he were a child, curling up into Viktor’s arms. “I bet people will try to convince you that I stole it to pocket money. Everyone thinks I’m just trying to rob you blind. Do you think that?”_

_“I think if you were going to, you would’ve already.” Viktor kissed his temple. “But no. I don’t think you have or ever will committed a crime. You’re a lovely person, Yuuri.”_

_“Have you ever committed a crime?” Yuuri gazed up at him._

_“Not yet, but if someone pushes my buttons the right way, I’ll be in the back of a police car before we have our first child.”_

_“… I’ll come with you then.”_

_Viktor ended up taking him to Coney Island that night, but Yuuri wasn’t really in the mood for roller coasters. He did, however, agree to the Wonder Wheel, even though Yuuri wasn’t really a fan of heights. He still seemed rather glum for the entirety of the evening, and Viktor simply couldn’t figure out how to cheer him up. Yuuri wasn’t like most people he’d dated in the past; he didn’t ask for gifts or demand to be taken to certain places. His mind was more complex than that, and when he set a goal for himself, he wouldn’t do much else other than try to accomplish it._

_On their third trip around the wheel, Viktor gives up. “Alright, love, what is it you want to do?”_

_Yuuri sighed pitifully, resting his head against Viktor’s shoulder. “I have to buy you a new car, myself.”_  
_“And why is that? Why can’t I pay for it or wait for the police to recover the car?”_

_He shot Viktor a dirty look before recollecting himself. “You know what people will think of me if I don’t take responsibility for what happened. I have to do this. Please…” He squeezes Viktor's hand, “Everything I do will be taken much more seriously than an average person. Do you realize the pressure I'm under? Gosh, even if I give birth to a baby someday who doesn't have your exact features, people are going to say I cheated on you. I don't know what to do!” He laughed, something painful. “I'll shut up now.”_

_“If I let you buy that car, will that cheer you up?” Viktor asked after a moment’s silence._

_“Yes.”_

_Viktor held his tongue for once, sliding an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders. “Alright, fine. I’m just wondering what we’re going to do with three cars once it's returned. Who would’ve stolen that thing in a secured lot? In plain sight? They could commit a murder without being seen by anyone. It’s simply baffling.”_

* * *

 

Carrying the evening gown on the crook of his arm, Yuuri enters the house once again to find the others and maybe get dressed eventually.

Knowing his life may very well change in the next few hours scares him, but he also reminds himself that he needs to focus on what’s important and try not to think too much about the horrors to come.

The whole murder scenario doesn’t quite make sense. Viktor didn’t do it. He had his issues with Feltsman, but he’d never commit a murder over it. And besides, he was genuinely shocked to find the corpse outside.

And Yuuri, of course, knows he didn’t kill anyone. That leaves quite too many people, but really, there are only three that have left him suspicious throughout the night.

First, Yuri Plisetsky. Yuuri had caught him sneaking around Feltsman’s quarters not long before the body was found; the only person who’d been in that general area. He doesn’t want to believe it was him, but Yuri likely had something to do with it or knew more than he said.

Secondly, the butler. Phichit had been acting far too strangely all evening and didn’t even bat an eye when the group told him the singing telegram person was shot at the door. He also informed Yuuri that he’d be arrested, and met them in the passage. What were his true intentions? Could he have killed his master? Was he even Yakov Feltsman’s butler???

But the more and more he thought about it, nobody was ever really alone for long during the night that was still in the house, which led to his final suspect: Otabek Altin. Wasn’t he invited to the afterparty? Did he not pull Yuuri into a dance with the coldest glare the latter had ever seen? What if- what if while everyone was drinking, he committed the crime and covered it up, setting up the possibility of someone he hates more than anything getting framed? Perhaps he poisoned the tea- perhaps the secret passage from the lounge led to the kitchen, which is how he was able to sneak around! He wouldn’t mind having Yuuri killed for something he didn’t do; his anger towards him was unceasing.  
Sure, Yuuri’s allegations are built solely on suspicion, but it’s something for him to chew on.

As he finds his way towards the lounge, he notices that he’s not quite alone. The maid is standing at the end of the hallway with a knife in her hand, but she isn’t looking at Yuuri; rather, she’s pretending to dust. “Looking for him?” She asks in a thick accented tone, though Yuuri knows her voice is shaking.

“Yes, actually. What’s the knife for?”

“It’s not safe in here, you know. Us objects need to protect ourselves.”

Yuuri blinks. “Objects?”

“Objectified individuals treated unequally to the men. I bet they’ve been drooling over you all night, yah? And after you left they had nothing but shit to say about you. It’s the same for me. They try to grab me for their pleasure, but when I leave I’m nothing but a filthy whore. Men are fucking garbage, I tell you. You should steer clear of them.” She turns to him. “My name is Mila. Your husband slept with me a few times before you, but he was too ashamed of me to ever tell anyone or take me to parties. I was just his doormat, to be used when needed. And now I see you,” she looks him up and down, “and I see he’s almost done the same thing, only this time he realizes the mistake he’s made by hiding you away, because you might leave him alone, and he’s terrified of that.”

“He didn’t love you.” Yuuri tries to defend, “And he does love me. He’s different now.”

“Really? How is he any different? He’s let them talk shit about you all night, hasn’t defended your name once. What a loving husband you have…”

He frowns, deflated. “He does need me.”

“For what?” She touches his arm. “I’m sorry for saying anything. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Just… be careful with those men. I don’t trust any of them, especially with you.”

“Viktor is my husband. He loves me, even if he doesn’t defend me. I’d appreciate if you stayed away from him, though. Please… knowing who he’s slept with makes everything quite awkward.”

“Certainly.” Mila makes an unpleasant face. “Doormats never quite change.”

_I’m not a doormat!_

_Every night, Viktor comes home to me. We have dinner together, he goes to his office, then he comes to my room. We have sex, he falls asleep, I fall asleep, and then he leaves. In the morning, he might kiss me goodbye and remind me of what I have to do for him. That’s all we do on normal days, vacations are a different story._

_Am I a doormat?_

_Why doesn’t he take me out more often? Why don’t we go to dinner parties? Why must love be so complicated? Why did I have to get married so many times??_

_If I were a virgin when I met him, nobody would treat me the way they do now!_

_Oh my god…_

_Why should my sex life, or anything before Viktor, have anything to do with how people see me now? I’m so much more than that. Does Viktor see beyond that?_

_“Sometimes I don’t know if you’re just painfully naive or just plain stupid, Yuuri! The only reason anyone here is paying attention to you at all is because they want to see how easy you are, and you’re about to prove them right! Here you are, flaunting yourself around men and then wondering why they all think you’re a whore...”_

Viktor’s words from earlier on in the night sting him like opening a fresh wound. He knows how Viktor feels, whether or not he wants to believe it’s true.

He nods to himself, understanding the awfulness of the situation. He needs to speak with Viktor, very soon, speak his mind, and…  
And end it.

“Mila, how can I redeem myself from such a title? Do you think it's possible?”

“Do you want a new one?” She asks softly.

“More than anything. I don't want my kids to be ashamed of me.”

She nods. “You have more important things to think about, Yuuri. The life of your child is in danger. Why did you come back? Do you trust everyone here?”

Yuuri swore all he did was blink, but by then, she's gone.

“No, I don't suppose I trust anyone.”

With the realization he's going to be alone again, Yuuri continues down the hall. He's lucky to hear voice in the lounge, and done with regrets, swings it open. “Yuri Plisetsky. Tell me where Otabek is.”

* * *

  
“I don't know why you're bringing this up.”

“Otabek is guilty or you know more than you're saying. Please, you need to help me figure this case out.”

Yura folds his arms. “Otabek wasn't at the afterparty. Don't you have eyes?”

“He was invited. Why would he not come, especially with how seldom he gets to see you?” Yuuri tilts his head. “You're dating him, aren't you?”

Yura nearly slaps him, lowering his fist. “Shut up, pig!”

He doesn't flinch. He stays calm. “I was just asking. Why are you so defensive, Yura? Do you have feelings for him?”

“I'm not afraid to beat the shit out of a pregnant person, Yuuri! You better shut up!!!”

“Then tell me what you know. Now.”

Yura growls, mumbling obscenities under his breath. “He told me he'd see me at the afterparty. We were supposed to ride home together.”

“And where does he live now?”

“He's lived in Manhattan for a while.”

“Did he drive here?”

“Yeah.”

“His car is still here, isn't it?”

Yura rolls his eyes, fighting back tears. “There’s no way Beka could do what was done tonight. I don't believe it.”

“And yet everyone believes someone as airheaded as Viktor could? I lived with Otabek. He's very smart, he's—”

“But why would he do it?! Viktor's got the motives, Otabek doesn't!”

“He might. Maybe he didn't tell you them to protect you.” Yuuri reaches out to touch the younger boy’s arm. “Otabek’s been wreaking havoc on my life for ages now in revenge of his father’s death. He worked with Yakov. I think they were planning on doing some harm to me.”

“How so?”

Gulping, Yuuri comes to a decision, “Otabek is the ‘investigator’ that was to come this morning. If he arrives, my suspicions are correct. I think he decided to frame me for the murder of Feltsman and get me out of his way for a final time. That, and he's the heir to Feltman’s company. I'm sorry, Yura. I think he's not what he claims to be.”

“Yeah? We'll see if you're right. But there's still a second murder to solve, isn't there?”

“That's true. I think those answers will come with time.”

“Which we don't have much of.”

Yuuri bites his lip. “And where's Viktor anyway?”

“The idiot’s been passed out in the ballroom.”  
“And the rest?”  
“Sleeping in the study. I'm going back to bed myself.”

* * *

 

“Yuuuuuri!” Viktor happily throws his arms around Yuuri the moment they see each other, but Yuuri doesn't hug back. He stays firm. Here goes nothing...

  
Taking a deep breath, Yuuri sweeps his hair behind his ears and faces Viktor. “After tonight, I’m leaving you. We’re done.”

Viktor just gives him a blank stare for a solid few seconds, saying nothing until he realizes Yuuri is walking in the opposite direction. “Wait. _What_?? Yuuri-“

“Don’t bother, Viktor Nikiforov… we aren’t married, are we? And you’re ashamed to be associated with me.”

“T-That’s not true! Yuuri!!!”

“You don’t care about me! You don’t care about me at all!!! If you cared, you wouldn’t let those people say such awful things about me! We’re done!!” He places his hand on the doorknob. “I’ll be staying with my parents.”

“What about the baby? This-This is what you’ve wanted all your life!”

“Maybe I’ve realized I can do this on my own if need be. If the man I thought loved me is ashamed to have me and doesn’t respect me as my own person. He only wants me as his sex toy every now and then.” He smiles. “Goodbye, now!”

“Yuuri…” Viktor startles him by dropping onto his knees and hugging Yuuri’s waist. “I can change! I promise!”

“You can _change_?” Yuuri practically mocks him, attempting to push him away. “You’ll pretend to, for a while. You’re pathetic.”

Viktor sinks his face into the skirt of Yuuri’s gown, squeezing his eyes shut. “I know… what I’ve done to you was wrong.”

“You are ashamed of me. It’s why we don’t share a room or go to parties, right?”

Silence.

“Just like I thought. Well, rest assured, you won’t be burdened any longer.”

“If you wish, I will let you go. I really can’t keep you here, can I?” Viktor says sadly, standing up. “Take money if you want… f-for the baby- or whatever you need to be comfortable. And…” Yuuri doesn't like this type of talk! He threatened to break up with Viktor, and the man’s okay with it? He's not going to demand Yuuri to stay? What a strange, and very good man. Viktor pulls something from his pocket, offering it to Yuuri. “I found this tonight. I want you to keep it.”

Yuuri’s taken aback at the sight of his long lost wedding ring. He takes it from him, still, then meets Viktor’s eyes. “What would I ever have had to do to make you love me? T-That’s all I ever wanted.” He's cracking, he can't do this… he can't leave Viktor! What was he thinking? They can work this out, can't they? Can they?

“I do love you. Sometimes, because of my goddamn pride, it’s hard to show it. I’m more than willing to admit I was very wrong in how I treated you. If you’d give me a chance to prove myself, I’d show you how sorry I am for what I’ve done.”

Yuuri sighs, resting against the door. “I’ll consider it.”

“That’s far more than I deserve.”

There’s a long silence that passes in between them, something awkward and quite bitter. “The baby moved earlier. I just thought you’d like to know.”

“Yeah? I'm glad.”

“Me too.”

“Yuuri… if you're really going to leave me…”

“Yes?”

“Can I–”  
“You want to kiss me?”

Viktor actually blushes. “Yeah, yeah I do. Being that this might be the end and all…”  
“Viktor… don't. Don't ever say that.” Yuuri cups his cheeks. “I know you're innocent. I trust that you are.”

Viktor relaxes in his hold, nuzzling his cheek against Yuuri's hand. “I am innocent, but I'll rot in prison if it means protecting you and the baby. I promise, I won't let anything else happen to you. Why don't you go back home?”

“Not a chance in hell,” Yuuri replies, “I said we're done after this, and you really think I'm going to walk away before I know what happened and who the murderer is? Viktor Nikiforov… just go ahead and kiss me before I lecture you.”

He does kiss Yuuri's lips, very softly and almost hesitantly, as if Yuuri was fragile. “I'm sorry.”

“It really hurt me when you told me I was stupid last night, and when you called me a whore… you know how I feel about that word…”  
“Yuuri…”  
“Do you think I am one? I had an affair once, yes, but it was with you, and other than you I always remained faithful. Why am I one? How can I change that image in your eyes?”

“I shouldn't have said what I said. You're not a whore. Hey, if anyone here is a whore, it's me. Want to know how many people I've had sex with?”

“I’d rather not, but, um, you still called me one.”

“I know. I'm a fucking idiot, and I'm very sorry… I'll make it up to you.”  
“How?”  
“I'll sock anyone who says it in the jaw. And I'll… I promise to respect your choices of dance partners, even if I'm jealous that you're not paying attention to me.”

“I'm not sure I believe you, but if you can prove it, I'll accept your apology.” He smiles up at his partner. “Do you want to help me with something?”

“Yeah, anything. What is it?”

“We're going back in the secret passage. I want to see something.”

  
  


* * *

“So you were drinking with the other men at the time we believe the body was found.”

“Right. And you were in the washroom.”

“Yura was walking around, as if he was searching for something. He said he found a rope. I found a candlestick.”

“Chris mentioned finding a wrench in the basement; and JJ could've sworn he saw a knife outside.”

“But Yakov was shot with a gun first.” Yuuri recalls, “Though we didn't hear a gunshot.”

“So perhaps he survived the attack, and died later due to getting a hit on the head.”

“Or maybe someone was trying to make another person look more suspicious to throw us off their case. We found him again in the lounge, remember? His head was bashed, and it wasn't fresh.”

“So someone dragged him through the passage.”

“And Phichit was in there.”

“So perhaps he's in on it too. But whoever shot Mr. Feltsman must've shot the person at the door, too. Someone has a gun in this house. The butler?”

“Or someone who's been hiding this whole time.” Yuuri squeezes his hand as they make their way through the passage. “I believe this passage goes from the kitchen to the lounge, and whoever killed Feltsman took his body from the cellar, through the passage, and into the lounge to frighten us into the other room, so we'd be just on time to witness the next kill and cause even more confusion.”

“That's… madness. And it makes sense. Who has the smarts to plan this?”

“I don't know. I just can't imagine anyone here doing it, and yet I don't trust any of them.” Yuuri murmurs, feeling the walls of the passage. “There's gotta be a door in here somewhere.”

“Yuuri, do you suppose we should've stayed home tonight instead of going?”

“Definitely. But we're here, and nothing is going to change on its own.”

“I bet you're regretting even marrying me. I bring bad luck.”

“You do, but it's better than being with the Altin’s, so I'm not complaining. Besides, we're having a baby. Why would I want to erase that?” Yuuri kisses his hand. “I wanted to tell you something else. I called my mother a few hours ago.”

“Did you tell her–”  
“I told her everything. And you know what? She said she could perhaps “come in the morning”, and then proceeded in critiquing me. But I don't know why I did it, or why I thought she would help me in any way. I was really scared, back at the house. I'm not as scared anymore.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I decided who I can trust, and who to surround myself with and it isn't them. As long as I don't die tonight, I have nothing to be afraid of. I'm a whore to the world. That won't scare me anymore. They're the ones that need to get over it. That's what I'm going to keep telling myself.”

“Good. You're going to need that confidence if you're going to stand up to the police.” Viktor presses another kiss to his cheek. “Which you will, because by God, we've just about cracked the case.” Viktor crouches down for a moment, makes something click, and then a door clicks open, swinging to reveal the kitchen!

With the light illuminating Viktor now, Yuuri can see he's picked up a gun from the floor. The weapon…

“Viktor, you're amazing!”

 _Bang_.

The couple startles, glancing into the kitchen to check and see what the noise was. “Viktor… hold my hand.”

I'll skip the gruesome description, but the cook of the house is most definitely deceased on the floor, knife in her back. She's been dead for a while.

When Yuuri and Viktor go to find the others, they're startled by the maid hanging by the steps leading upstairs. It's a bloodbath, and they're unsure what kind of psycho is behind this, but they're done. _They're done_!

Mila had just been alive, afraid, but alive in the hall. She had a knife then. _She had a knife_. “Viktor… I don't want to be here anymore. Please, let's get out of here!”

Oh, if only they could have.

Viktor and Yuuri run like hell to the front door, toss it open, and sprint down the front steps towards their car, only to see the flash of blue and red lights at the end of the driveway.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter eight will allow everything to make sense. Who do you all think is guilty THIS time? 
> 
> Secondly, this chapter should be called the traveling chapter, being that I wrote it on a road trip, featuring a car, a boat, on top of a lifeguard stand, on the shore, on a balcony, on a ferris wherl, and on a fishing pier. It's seen some things. 
> 
> See you next time! 
> 
> Questions? Message me on tumblr anytime, @reddyonice. I love talking. 
> 
> Don't have tumblr? I doubt it, but I'm on Twitter as @YakovFeltsman (lmao) and Instagram as @phichitchulanont.


	9. Chapter Eight: The Study

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all ends here. 
> 
> Who really did it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***CHAPTER CONTENT WARNING***
> 
> While the action isn't done, rape is mentioned several times at the end of the chapter. I understand this can be a sensitive topic, and felt like leaving a warning since the topic is very briefly mentioned.

_Several weeks previously..._

_You took forever in there,” Otabek complained, finally meeting up with Yuuri by his car. “You were supposed to only stay for dinner.”_

_“You could've called. You could've picked me up, if you were that impatient.” Yuri let himself into the passenger seat. He's soon uncomfortable with the silence. “I'm sorry.”_

_“It's fine.” Otabek finally replied as he drove out of the dark parking lot. “It's just that… I was worried, is all.”_

_“Worried about me going to my cousin’s house? That's a new one. Viktor's too dumb to hurt me. And besides, why would he do that? He has no reason to, considering he lost most his family.” Yuri slouched back in his seat, folding his arms. “I know you don't trust that Yuuri, and neither do I, but—”_

_“I don't want you hanging around them all the time. It's not good for you.”_

_“How do you know what's good for me?”_

_“Yuuri killed my father, remember?”_

_Yuri fell silent._

_“They'll both be attending Yakov’s party. And I think something bad is going to happen because of Yuuri. Just a thought, though.”_

_“Shit. Stop the car, Beka.”_

_“What, you don't believe me?”_

_“No, I forgot my wallet and keys at their house. I gotta go back for them. Shit…”_

_It took all the strength Otabek had to not protest. He calmly drove back down to the rich neighborhood— where houses were spread apart with their own private beaches and people lived careless, mindless lives drowning in wealth, until he found the house on the very end, farther apart from any of the others, and pulled the car to a halt. “Hurry up. I hate being here.”_

_“Jesus, calm your ass down. Yuuri isn't going to jack your tires just by parking here.” Yuri mumbled, slamming the door shut behind him as he stalked up to the front door, deciding to ring the bell instead of banging on it like originally planned._

_It takes about thirty seconds for someone to answer. And to his and Otabek’s (all the way from the car) horror, it's Yuuri._

_“Yura?” Yuuri wraps the silk robe tighter around his middle, peering out the front door at the unfamiliar car parked there. “What is it?”_

_“I forgot my shit here.” Yura grumbled. “My wallet, keys, have you seen it? And why are you answering the door instead of a servant?”_

_“I was coming downstairs to get a drink when you rung the bell,” he explained softly. “Why don't you come in and get it? I've no idea where those things are. Haven't seen them.”_

_“Thanks.” Yuri nudged past him into the now empty house, chilled at just how eerily silent and lonely it seemed. “Where's Viktor?”_

_“Oh, he's already gone to bed, probably,” Yuuri followed behind him, hugging himself._

_“Probably?”_

_“Last I saw him, he was in his office. He could've gone up to bed. I don't know.”_

_“You don't sleep together?”_

_Yuuri smiled sadly, shaking his head. “Where do you think you left it?”_

_“Probably outside on the veranda.”_

_“Why is Otabek outside, by the way?”_

_“He's my ride.”_

_“Ah, I see.” Yuuri still felt uncomfortable with that fact, because Otabek brought back memories. He looked just a little too much like his father, quite possibly the most terrible person Yuuri ever met. He knew it was wrong to hate someone so young, but if Otabek and him were the last two people on Earth, he’d kill himself before spending any time with him!_

_Yuuri waited patiently while the younger man searched around for his belongings, the back door loudly banging shut behind him. He winced at that, and soon enough, footsteps came padding down the hall upstairs…_

_“Yuuri, is that you?”_ Viktor _._

_Yuuri closed his eyes, exhaling. “Yes… I- I was just getting some air.”_

_“Are you not feeling well?” Fuck, Viktor was coming down the steps now. What if he saw the front door open, with Otabek waiting right there? What would he say as an excuse to that? Did he want an excuse? “You did look a little sick tonight, love.”_

_Yuuri pretended to forget about how sick he'd been for the last few mornings, and simply hugged himself tighter, staring down at the ground. “Yeah. I'm not feeling well.”_

_Viktor was face to face with him now, and gently lifted his hand to caress Yuuri's cheek. “Come up to bed. I'll make you some tea–”_

_“No, no, tea won't help,” he said quickly, glancing towards the back door. Viktor wouldn't like that his cousin was brought to their home by an Altin, a known new enemy of the Nikiforovs. It was best if he remained unaware. “Just take me upstairs. I've got such a headache.”_

_“Alright,” Viktor gently took Yuuri's hand, using his other to rest against the small of Yuuri's back and led him back upstairs. “I'm starting to worry about you, you know. How quiet you've been.” He said at the top of the steps, debating whether or not to join Yuuri in his bedroom. He decided to do it, thankfully._

_“Then talk to me more.” Yuuri held his head, successfully faking his illness. He removed the robe, and allowed Viktor to help him into bed. “Stay in here, please, Vitya…” the whine in his voice was super effective. He ended up curling up in Viktor's arms, head resting against his chest so he could feel if he got up, and closed his eyes once more._

_“You know, perhaps if we had a baby you wouldn’t be so lonely during the day. I do have to work.” He stroked Yuuri's hair softly, as if to comfort him, “It's not that I want to. If I had a choice, I'd never work and simply travel around the world with you.”  
“I know.” Yuuri sinks his head down. “I know.”_

_He didn't mean to fall asleep, but after the evening he had, it was nice to be held…  
~~~_

_Sighing, Yuri came back inside empty handed. No sign of anything. He didn't honestly believe any of the other guests had actually taken his belongings, but perhaps a servant._

_He hated to need to go get Yuuri, but he really needed his stuff._

_So he slipped up the servants’ staircase, blindly finding his way through various rooms until he thought he found Yuuri's bedroom._ Should I knock?

No, I won't knock, because Viktor will hear me.

_He slid the door open, startled to see that Yuuri wasn't alone and that his cousin seemed to be awake…_

I thought they slept separately!

_“Yura…?” Viktor muttered, “What're you doing here?”_

_“I uh… left my wallet… here.” Is Yuuri naked? Oh, he was going to be sick…_

_“Oh, I think I remember picking it up. Let me try to get out of bed without…” the moment Viktor tried to sit up, Yuuri's grip on him grew stronger. “Never mind then.. it's in the front hall, in the drawer of that table with the lamp—”_

_“Viktor, shhh..” Yuuri whispered, eyes shut._

_“Sorry.” Viktor gave his cousin a goofy grin. “I do wish I could show you myself, but duty calls. Have a good night, Yura.”_

_“Uh… yeah…”_ Right after I go bleach my eyes.

_After tip toeing down the steps, he entered the main hall, walking in on something he shouldn't have._

_Otabek was there, slipping something from the table in question into his pocket. It looked expensive._

_“Beka? Why're you in here?” Yuri hissed, looking around to make sure they weren’t being watched. Viktor kept a revolver in one of the desk drawers in his office. If he saw Otabek here, stealing, he’d…_

_“You took too long, and the door was left open. I was curious to see what this place looked like, anyway. Did you find it?”_

_“No, but it looks like you found what you were looking for. Put it back.”_

_“Put what back?” Otabek grinned. “Aw come on, they won't miss it.”_

_“Beka. Put it back.”_

_Otabek frowned, turning to the table once again and opening the drawer. “Found your wallet. Let's go.”_

_“You can't just steal something from my cousin and… and expect me not to—”_

_“Do you want a ride home or not?”_  
~~~  
“I've been in trouble recently.” Otabek said as he walked Yuri to his front door. “I don't want to involve you, but I'm worried it will.”

_“What do you mean?”_

_“After Yakov’s party, I have a job to accomplish. He hired me.”_

_Yuri nodded. He appeared to know what that meant. “So, who has to die?”_

_“Maybe someone you know. That’s not my job, and I can't tell you…”_

_“It's Yuuri, isn't it?” Yuri looked down. The thought of just how broken up his cousin would be at the loss of Yuuri is killing him with guilt. “Why does it have to be him? I know he's a slut and I personally don't give a fuck about him, but what has he done to deserve that?”_

_“Again, confidential. I'm just hoping it doesn't come to that, you know? Be alert at the party. There's no telling what might happen.”_

* * *

  
“If I kill myself,” Chris says, juggling a lead pipe in between his hands, “would I get out of here quicker than I would as an innocent, living man?”

“Yeah. I say we do it. You hit me over the head and I shoot you.” Georgi replies, staring out the window at the officers speaking with Viktor and Yuuri. “We could be the next victims.”

“What about my wife? My kids…” JJ adds softly from his perch on the armchair. “How would I explain this to them? They must be so worried…”

“I asked my husband to come here, hours ago. He never showed up.” Chris looks at him. “What if something happened to him?”

“I get your concerns, but what if something happens to us?” Yura finally speaks up. “I’m going outside to see what’s going on.”

“Do whatever you want.”

Chris swallows. “Leroy. How many kids you got?”

“Three. Two boys and a girl.”

“What are their names?”

“The oldest boy is named after me, then there’s Oliver and Maria. They’re all very young…”

“So why don’t you leave…” Georgi stands, “We’ll cover for you, and you leave discreetly. Go home to your family while you still have a chance.” He looks to the others, who all nod in agreement.

“I couldn’t. I’m not the only one with a family here…” JJ protests, “Chris, you’ve got your husband. Georgi, your parents and siblings. Yuuri and Viktor have each other, and Yuri Plisetsky has…”

"Nothing. I have nothing.” Yura says. “Don’t worry about us. If you’re going to go, do it now. Don’t waste time trying to play hero. Go.”

“I'm not leaving like that. What kind of man would that make me?” He clenches his fist. “I say we call our loved ones while we still can, because we just don't know.”

Frowning, Yura slips out the door and finds his way outside. He doesn't care what happens to him. Not at all…

Three of the men find themselves back in the study around the phone, waiting for each to take a turn. Chris immediately calls home. It rings, once, twice…  
“Giacometti residence.” It’s a servant.

“It’s Chris. Where is he…”

“Your husband left last night, sir. He hasn’t been back since.” Chris slams the phone down, swearing loudly. “That’s it! He’s dead. He has to be dead! God damn it, someone shoot me!”

* * *

  
“It's been a madhouse all night here,” Yuuri says to one of the officers. “We've been held here against our will. Why did it take so long for you to arrive?”

The man raises his eyebrows. “So long? I'll have you know, little girl, that we just got a call from a neighbor less than a half hour ago complaining about noise. Compared to most calls, we gave you our best service.”

“I'm not a g—”

“So, what's all the ruckus in here, sir?” The second officer turns to Viktor. “House party?”

“Yeah. We stayed the night.” Viktor says, taking Yuuri's hand, “We were just leaving, actually.”

“And what's this about being kept here against your will?” The officer acknowledges Yuuri. Viktor forces a laugh.

"Oh, haha, my dearest is a little… confused after missing his medicine and lack of sleep. I'm sure he'll make much more sense after a good rest.”

“Ah, of course. So there's no issue here, is there?”

“None. We… tend to get a little loud sometimes, but everyone's asleep now, and uh, I can assure you there won't be any more noise.”

“Alright then, my good man, I apologize for disturbing you.” The first says.

“Wait a moment.” The second officer looks to Viktor. “How'd you get so beat up? Where is the owner of this home?”

“Um… asleep.” Viktor says quickly. “I think. I haven't seen him personally.”

“You haven't seen your own host?”

“No! I mean, I have, I just—”

“I think what my husband means is, our host went to bed quite some time ago and we haven't seen him since then. We didn't want to disturb him.” Yuuri grabs Viktor's arm. “It was a meaningless argument between two drunken men. No harm done.”

“I'm sure. Who else is here? Who was the other member of the fight?”

Yuuri bit his lip. “Me. I did that to him.”

“You did that to your own husband?” The first officer’s eyes widen, but the second remains skeptic. “Why would you do that to him, unless you're a crazy son of a bitch?”

“Maybe I am. But he wronged me, so I knocked some sense into him.”

“I see.”

The first officer walks back to the patrol car, and attempts to start it. It makes a strange whirring sound, then dies. Fuck.

“What's wrong with it now?” The second officer groans.

“It's fucked. Damn it…” he leans out of the car. “Do you have a telephone inside?”

“Inside? Um… yes…” Viktor motions towards the house. “In the… study.”  
“Right. The study.” Yuuri repeats, nodding at Viktor. “Let's go.”

“Why don't you take them inside, and I'll get the car ready for you?” Viktor suggests out of nowhere. Yuuri thinks nothing of it, turning around to lead the police into the house.

Viktor did this to watch, to see if even as honorable of people as these two officers could treat Yuuri with respect, or if they'd be just like everyone else.

“So um… right this way.” Yuuri opens the door for them. He pretends he doesn't notice the accidental slide of a hand across his thigh as one of the two pass him.

But Viktor does.

It just proves his point.  
If left alone in a prison, Yuuri would never be able to survive with men like this around. It seemed like everyone wanted his body.  
So Viktor had to do whatever it took to protect him.

* * *

 

The officers end up in the study as soon as Chris, Georgi and JJ finish their calls. Yuuri shuts the door, fumbling with something, and then _click_ , the door is locked.

“Did you just lock two police officers in a room?!”

“What was I supposed to do?! We have bodies everywhere!”

“They're going to kill us once they realize they're stuck.”

“Then let's take this chance and leave!”

“Leave?” Comes a sudden voice from the porch. “You can't leave. You're a suspect.” Yura sounds… different.

Yuuri turns to the young man, eyes widening at the fact that he isn't standing alone.

Otabek is now with him.

“What's going on _now_?” JJ backs up against the door. “Who's that?”

“You going to kill me, Otabek? Is that the next part of your plan?” Yuuri, instead of backing up, marches right up to him. It helps his confidence that Otabek is shorter. Perhaps by Otabek being here, it proves Yuuri's theory. He must be the killer! “Yeah, I know exactly what you're up to, and I want you to stop. I've had enough of you for one lifetime!”

“This isn't about you, Yuuri.” Otabek says calmly.

“The fuck it's not? You're the investigator that's coming to arrest me! And oh, I'm so frightened? How ever will I afford the bail??” He lifts a hand to his head. “I was rich before your father, and I'm richer now. _Try. Me_.”

“You'd better shut up, Yuuri,” Yura says in a much quieter tone. “I'm serious.”

“No. No. I'm done with being quiet when there's so much that you people don't seem to _fucking_ understand! Otabek' father was an abusive piece of shit who used me for my money. I never wanted to marry him. He and my father _forced_ me. I never had sex with Viktor while married to your father, he was just my friend. But his father went ballistic, following me and questioning everyone I associated with like a psychopath. Whenever I'd leave the house and come back, I'd get punished. Once, he locked me in my bedroom for _two days_. There was worse, but I don't want you to hear it. I just have to ask you, ask you all, how the hell would you ever want to stay in a situation like that? I escaped to save my life!”

“Escape? Really? Why didn't you just leave him?” Otabek narrows his eyes. “You could've left your first three husbands at any given time, but you didn't. You are known to play victim and over exaggerate.”

“You were there, Otabek. The night before he died. Don't you remember?”

“Don't I remember? How he caught you and Viktor in his own bedroom? I think his actions were justified. Imagine what you'd do if you saw Viktor do the same thing.”

“If Viktor did the same thing, I would like for him to explain. I wouldn't hurt him like that. Why? Because whether you like it or not, I'm a decent person.” He turns to the others. “I know what you all think of me. I know I must deserve it in your eyes. Okay. Yeah, I made a mistake and had an “affair” with my now husband. But if that's all I did, why… why do I have to be treated as less than human? What have I done to you men personally, that's somehow far worse than any of your sins?"

“Would someone get this bitch to shut his damn mouth? God fucking damn…” the butler slams one of the doors shut down the hall. “You annoy the shit out of me. Out of all of us! You know _why_?!” Phichit stands in front of him. “Because, you're _garbage_ , and you act like you're gold.” He thrusts a finger into Yuuri's chest. “You're worthless. And you think you have worth. Everyone sees what a lowly, meaningless life you've had, and treats you the way you deserve. And you always want more! You think you deserve the world, when you've destroyed other people's! What you really deserve is exactly what's coming to you, and for what you did last night, Yuuri? I can't wait to watch you die. Thank God that baby is being saved by not coming into the world only to have such a wretched person in its life.”

Yuuri's face is bright red, his eyes watering. But he says nothing. He doesn't have the strength to; his throat feels tight….  
And none of the men present say anything in his defense.  
Until Viktor comes inside.

“What's going on in here?”

“Everyone to the lounge.” The butler takes Yuuri's arm. “It's time we announced who did it.”

 

* * *

Yuuri remembers on the short walk to the lounge, that Yura whispered to him something like, “that's not what I think of you”, but he wasn't listening, truly. If he felt differently, he should've said something right then and there. But he didn't, so….

The lounge looks quite different now in the daylight.

Six weapons are laid out in front of six individuals. Before them is a map of the mansion they are inside on a large piece of paper, in which six rooms are circled. "One of you fuckers did this." Says the man in front of the group, hands bloodstained and face looking terrifyingly wicked all of the sudden. "You'll be tried and sentenced to death for killing such an important man, did you realize that yesterday when you did it?"

"Go to hell," Yura had tears forming in his eyes. "You have no solid evidence. How would you possibly know who did it?"

At this, Phichit gives him a cruel smile. He takes several steps— to the end of the row, where Yuuri has been clinging onto his spouse. His lips are moving as if he's praying, but when he sees his interrogator, he hides his face in Viktor's shoulder.

The butler looks them up and down, successfully filling everyone with dread. "You thought I wouldn't find out? You're not that clever, Nikiforov."

Viktor Nikiforov's mouth hangs open in shock as he takes a moment to process what was said. "What— I'm innocent! I– how dare you assume!" He hasn't stepped out of line yet, but he keeps eyeing the table and Phichit can see him mentally selecting a weapon; meanwhile his spouse hasn't stopped crying nor hugging his arm in desperation. "Please, please, please don't, he.. he's innocent, please don't do this, please-"

Phichit turns to the weapons table for a moment, peering over his options; a revolver, a lead pipe, a knife, a rope, a wrench and... a candlestick. He selects the last one, then returns to Viktor. "Can you imagine being cruel enough and skilled enough to kill a man with a goddamn candlestick?"

"I– I didn't..." Viktor shakes his head, struggling to form words, "I didn't have that weapon last night, and you know that."

"I do know that, you're right." He nods, standing in front of the weeping spouse. The scarlet gown he'd worn for the gala the night before has been torn nearly to shreds below his knees, and it too is bloodstained. "But your whore? I think he knows exactly what I'm talking about." He waves the candlestick in front of the crying young man's stricken face.

"Oh come on, leave him alone!" Georgi—, who is now crying as well, calls out. "He would never..."

"The evidence was clear as day. The police have already been called, they're here, and I have prepared the official accusation."

"God damn you!" Viktor shouts, but he shows no emotion in his face. No tears, no fear...

Yuuri sinks to his knees, burying his face in them as the remaining four remain silent and somber.

_"What you really deserve is exactly what's coming to you, and for what you did last night, Yuuri? I can't wait to watch you die.”_

"God damn you, Chulanont! What did you do to him?!"

"Shut up, Nikiforov!" The butler snaps, turning his attention back to the kneeling suspect.

"You're crying now because you know your guilt will cost you your life," he crouches in front of him.

“No, I'm crying b-because I'm pregnant and I don't want—”

“Shut up, you knew it wasn’t going to make it anyway.” That insult sends a pain to Yuuri's chest. "So, here is what I propose; Yuuri killed Yakov Feltsman in the lounge with a candlestick."

A collective gasp of surprise is the only sound in the room before the confusion breaks out.  
The butler closes his fingers around the Yuuri’s pale throat, drenched in sweat. "Such a pretty neck... it's a shame, really." Yuuri gulped, struggling to free himself from the unbreakable grip. "You will be hung by tomorrow, make no mistake." He strikes him across the face, causing another round of protest from the guests. But he doesn't stop, and no one has stopped him yet. "Any last words, little one?"

“If you're so sure it was me,” Yuuri says, face stinging from the blow and now being helped up by Viktor, “then tell me how I did it. I want to know.”

* * *

 

“So this is what happened..” the butler folds his arms. “Yakov wanted to fake his death, and he hired Otabek to make it look as real as possible. He signed Otabek as the heir to the money, so that after he escaped, Otabek could withdraw it and give it to Yakov, getting some percent. In exchange, Yakov allowed him to choose whomever he wanted to frame for it. He researched on how to make a fake gunshot look as real as possible, then had Yakov drink a poison that would put him unconscious and look very much dead to pull off the act." _Just like the poisonous tea Yuuri drank... "_ Yakov was then to wait in the basement until the coast was clear and then escape and start a new life.”

“Then, he turned out to be _really_ dead.” Otabek adds.

“So we figured it out,” the butler continues, “Yakov must've woken up when Yuuri went into the cellar, and being the pervert he is, tried to get Yuuri to have sex with him or something, I don't know, he was screwing around once he found Yuuri alone in the lounge. And Yuuri, threatened and locked in, had no choice but to defend himself and rid Viktor of his blackmailer.”

Yuuri opens his mouth to speak, but he is unable to get a word out before gunshots ring through the air......

and one person drops to the ground.

“I've nearly been shot!” Otabek exclaims, lifting himself from the floor once the police kick the door open. There's chaos for a solid five minutes with seven people talking at once, trying to convince the officers they're innocent. Yuuri's just been silent. He's not feeling so good...

“And I'm going to tell you all what we're not going to do is talk all at the same time.” The officer lowers his gun. “Who the hell is the real killer here? Is it this one?” He points to Yuuri, and no one refuses it. “The butler’s story did make sense. I heard the end of it. Anyone refute that?”

“It was, sir,” The butler replies. “He did it, in the lounge, with a candlestick. We all believe it's true.”

_Why isn't anyone defending me??? Not even Viktor! Viktor, how could you let this—_

“It's not true.” Viktor pipes up, voice shaking. He meets the eyes of the officers. “I did it. I killed Feltsman with a candlestick.” Everyone turns to Viktor, mouths agape. “I even know where the weapon is. I simply wanted him dead.”

“Viktor…” Yuuri squeezes his arm. “Please, _no_ …”

“It'll be alright, love,” Viktor whispers against his ear with the most sorrowful, faked smile he'd ever seen. “I love you…”

“ _Why_ …” Yuuri chokes out, covering his mouth. “How could you… Viktor…!”  
_No no no no no  
Please, Viktor. Don't let this be true…._

“An outright confession is as much proof as we have right now.” The officers nod to each other and take Viktor's arms. He does not fight them. “We'll continue this at the station after we call for backup to do a thorough sweep of the house. I'm sure there's more than one victim."

Yuuri's in a daze. His heart pounding, ears ringing… “ _why_ ….”

“I promise, I'll be alright, Yuuri…” Viktor calls as he's escorted out of the room. Yuuri has to be held back. He doesn't want to leave him. 

He's shocked.  
I think they all were, mostly because they knew it wasn't true, and Viktor only did it to protect Yuuri and their unborn child.

_“I’m more than willing to admit I was very wrong in how I treated you. If you’d give me a chance to prove myself, I’d show you how sorry I am for what I’ve done.”_

_“Give me a chance to prove myself.”_

_He did._

* * *

 

“So who really did it?” Yuuri murmurs, long after the police left. He's fumbling with his wedding ring between his fingers, and his heart hurts so badly he feels ready to faint at some points. It's been quiet for a while. “Was if you, Yura?”

Yuri wraps his arm around Yuuri's middle, pulling him to his feet. “It wasn't me. I'll explain everything later. Just…”

“No, I want to know. I want to fucking know who ruined my life…”

“I think Beka and the butler were plotting it all, but it doesn't matter. It's not like you're going to–”

He's cut off by the most pitiful of sobs as Yuuri cries into his hands. “Please, Yura, tell me…”

“Fine. All of you, come with me. Let's have him tell you.”

Yuuri's being supported now, Chris on one side and Yura on the other, as if Viktor's already dead and he's going to collapse at any given moment. But really, he's alright. He's too bitter to be anything else.

“What really happened in the basement with the body, Yuuri?” Chris asks him once they've approached the butler and Otabek, who've been awkwardly waiting in the hall during this time.

“Nothing! He was dead! A-At least I thought he was. He… he fell on me, he was propped against the wall and he fell on top of me. He seemed stiff… it took all I had to get him off of me, but I didn't kill him!”

“It's alright if you did… if he was making sexual advances…” Georgi starts.

“Stop!” Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut. “I don't want to talk about that right now!”

“Guys, let it go. I think he's been through enough today.” Yura speaks for him. “Let's just skip that part and continue on. If Yuuri says he didn't kill Yakov, then I believe him. Someone else did that.”

“Maybe it really was Viktor…” Chris says slowly, though anyone can tell he doesn't really believe it.

“Or maybe it was Mr. Chulanont here.” JJ cuts in. “The shadiest bastard of the night, right along with Otabek here. I bet it really was you two.”

“We’ll let the police handle this.” The butler responds calmly, “Yuuri clearly isn't in the right state of mind, so could we really trust his statement?”

“I trust him.” Chris says, “Mainly because I don't trust the butler, and I've known Yuuri longer.”

“You've no proof against me.” The butler is starting to look pale, as he glances frantically around the room. “Come on, I've heard how you talk about Yuuri! You can't trust him.”

“And why should we trust you, sir?” Georgi takes one of Yuuri's arms. “Get yourself out of here. Do you think you can drive?”

“Mmhm.” He wipes his eyes. “But I don't want to drive.”

“We'll help you home.”

“Okay.” He nods. “I'm going to go home, lock the doors, and then I'm going to kill myself.”

“Yuuri…”

“I'll do it!” He says in a louder tone. “Who's going to stop me, my soon to be dead husband? Or perhaps any of you, who all think I'm worthless.” He smiles weakly. “Worthless people don't deserve to live, do they?”

Yuuri storms towards the front door, with quite a crowd chasing behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
“I don't think Yuuri would come to you willingly.” Otabek stood in front of his employer in the basement of the house. It’d taken longer than expected for Yakov to wake up. “It's just that… you're so _old_ …”

“He married your father, didn't he?” Yakov was sitting on the ground, rubbing his head. Apparently, he'd fallen on it while asleep.

“Yeah, he did. Again, not willingly. Look, why can't you just let him get framed and move on? Why do we have to take him with us tomorrow morning? I don't want to be stuck with him. He'll be crying the entire trip.”

“Yuuri has something quite rare in our day. Do you know what that is?”

Otabek blinks. “His reproductive system is…”

“Yes. And I have no sons. The only child I have, I had to hide from the world due to the shame of being with her mother. I think Yuuri could help me.”

“But why him? There are plenty of girls who could get pregnant. Why do you have to ruin Yuuri’s life?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Isn't that what you wanted?”

“Yeah, but not like that! Nobody deserves to be raped, taken from their family, and….” he trailed off, struck with the sudden realization that… “Point is, I'm not going to help you take Yuuri. Pick someone else.”

“I'm not picking someone else. You agreed to help me, and you'll do as I say, or you'll be the victim tonight.” Feltsman pulled a gun from one of his pockets. That certainly hadn't been part of the plan... “The choice is yours.”

“My father used to say in a situation where you're presented with two unbeneficial options—” _Thwack_!!! “Create a third.”

“ _Agh_!!!!” Yakov clutched his skull as blood trickled down his face. “Why are you— you—!” He had been struck over the head with an old candlestick, and only one of the men looked surprised of the action.

“Even if I didn't choose Yuuri to be framed, you were going to rape him. What kind of sick bastard are you if you have the stomach to actually rape a  person? And you expect him to actually carry a child for you, after you raped him?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Otabek. Yuuri's not married. I am going to marry him first.”

“That's… that's still… disgusting” he looked into Yakov’s eyes, seeing the emptiness, the sinister smile that made him sick to his stomach… “Go to hell. Go to hell!” _Thwack! Thwack!  
Thwack._

_At least I know my father never hurt Yuuri in that way. Yes, Yuuri ruined many things for my family, but no one deserves that kind of horrific treatment._

_Now there's one less monster in the world._

_I don't like Yuuri. I hate him. I'll let him sit in jail, likely to be bailed out by Viktor within the day, but I'm not going to be held responsible for a kidnapping and a rape. I'm better than that._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll notice I added an additional chapter, because if I had not, this chapter would've been like 10k and I'm not ready for that yet. 
> 
> Questions? 
> 
> HMU @reddyonice on tumblr,  
> @phichitchulanont on Instagram,  
> and @YakovFeltsman on Twitter
> 
> Leave a review and let me know: did the real culprit surprise you? Who do you believe killed the other victims?


	10. Chapter Nine: The Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time has passed, and the day of the trial finally arrives. Who will be convicted? Will the case remain unsolved?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than expected. I added an additional chapter (I'm so sorry), but it'll be pretty fluffy compared to this storm you all have been trapped in.

“Yuuri's house is so pretty….” JJ and his wife wait in the driveway for the rest of the group to meet on their way to the courthouse. Yuri was the only one to go inside. He'd been staying with Yuuri Nikiforov for weeks now, just to watch over him.

Everyone pitied him, now six months pregnant and possibly soon a widow thanks to a delayed trial. He seemed to be doing alright, around others at least, but when left alone, he often found himself so overwhelmed with horrible emotions that he could seldom get out of bed. He didn't want to lose Viktor.

* * *

 

Knock, knock. “Yuuri. Everyone's here.”

Yuuri quickly wiped his cheeks,catching a glimpse at his pathetic reflection in the mirror across from his bed. “J-Just a moment.”

“You aren't ready yet?”

Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut. “I'll be out in a minute, please, just…”

It's been strange living with Yuuri, he's found. For one, Yuuri has been staying in Viktor's bedroom, and every night he tends to sleep only with Viktor's unwashed blanket and several frequently-used clothes that smell of him. He also writes letters, sometimes more than once a day, but he never sends them. Yura read one. He wished he didn't.

It was filled with passion, longing for love, and he could feel the pain in Yuuri's words, the fear….

_Please, please don't die. Every day without you my heart fills with guilt. This is all my fault, and I should be taking the blame for this, not you._

“Yuuri?”

“Yura, I already said I'd—”

“You're crying, aren't you? You don't want anyone to see you like this.”

Silence.

“It's not his funeral.”

And again… nothing.

“Yuuri, I'm coming in.”

“I told you to _go away_!” Yuuri exclaims as the door clicks open, and now he can hear his stifled sobs loud and clear. Yuuri's laying across Viktor's bed, still in his pajamas, and face bright red from the tears trickling down his cheeks.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright—”

“ _Get out_!” Yuuri throws one of the pillows at the younger man, but it doesn't do much.

“Don't you want to be there today, Yuuri?! What's gotten into you??”

“Please, just…” Yuuri's on the verge of hyperventilation at this point. He was with Viktor just the night before, and when he'd left he looked calmer than he'd been in months. Of course, that could've been because he'd gotten married (again), but then again, he could barely see Viktor in his dark cell and wasn't even allowed to touch his hand. Some marriage ceremony.

Maybe he smoked a few cigarettes, but whatever happened last night was over now. He looked ready to faint from lack of oxygen.

Later, Yura will discover that Yuuri does this frequently when panicking, and normally a few pills and a cigarette or two would ward off such a strong event, but he's quit since the night of the murder and has been in this circumstance far too many times, most of them being fought alone.

“Are you afraid? It's okay, Yuuri. I think we all are.” He tentatively rests a hand on Yuuri's knee. “Breathe.”

“I just want him to come home.” He sucks in a breath. “I tried to break up with him just before they took him. I messed up… I- I should've kept my mouth shut. H-He probably took the blame just to keep me safe and prove he was worthy for me!”

“Yu—”

“I'm not a whore and I tried my best to be a good spouse and please him as well as I could but I still ended up ruining everything for him! God, I should've been the one that died!”

“Yuuri, you're alive for something very important.” Yura reminds him.

“No I'm not…” he sinks his head.

“The baby.” Yura frowns. “ _Viktor's_ child.”

“Viktor's… that he won't live to see!”

“No, no, Viktor's going to raise that kid right alongside you. He's going to be a good father.”

“How can he be a good father if he'll be hung, or worse, imprisoned for life? I don't want to go because I don't want to hear those words.” Yuuri says, hiding his face in his pillow. It's too bad he can't lay on his stomach anymore. And what’s worse is, this isn’t the first time he and Yura had this conversation. He’s such a burden...

“Yuuri Nikiforov, I've been living here for weeks now just to keep an eye on you. And during these weeks, not once have you accomplished something you know you should be. You haven't bought or prepared anything for the baby, cleaned your room, barely eaten, or bathed in ages. You've got to pull yourself together! By not taking care of yourself, you're not only harming you, but that baby as well. Viktor would want you to be healthy.”

Yuuri listens to his words. He isn't going to change much, but the least he can do is take a bath and get dressed. Otherwise, Yura will never leave his room.

“I miss him, you know?” Yuuri says sadly. “You wouldn't understand what that's like. You've never been in love before.”

“I guess I haven't.” Yura’s face is red, is it a blush, is it heat, or is he just angry as usual? “But anyone would tell you this. Get over yourself and your little pity party and clean up.”

“I'm going to go take a bath, then. They can leave without me.” Yuuri finally decides.

“Sure thing.” Yura folds his arms. “And I'm going to be sitting right outside the door, so don't try anything stupid. Remember, you have to stay alive for your kid.”

“I know that.”

(He didn't seem to know that back at the end of May, two nights after Viktor's arrest.

Yura found a knife in his room earlier on in the day, so he removed it. There must've been more, because…  
Yuuri did try to end his life, and could've succeeded had it not be for Yuri Plisetsky. But that's not to say Yura was calm about the situation at all.

“Yuuri Nikiforov, you better open this damn door right fucking now!!!” Yura risked breaking his foot as he kicked at the old oak door that night. “Now!!” His voice would later be hoarse from his screams, but he was desperate. “Open the goddamn door!!!”

When there wasn't a reply, Yura panicked. He kicked the door until he broke toes, rammed furniture against it, shouting all the way. And finally, finally, it busted open.

He called the hospital first. Then, the prison.  
***

“Viktor,” the prison guard used to live near Viktor several years ago. They'd done business together, and got along alright considering the situation. Until that night… “It's Yuuri.”

“What.” Viktor sprung out of bed, peering between the bars of his cell. “What? What's happened to him?”

“I'm sorry…”

“ _What's happened?! Is he alright?? Where is he??_ ”

“I don't know anything. Your cousin called, and…”

“Let me out of here,” Viktor says lowly, his only moment of calmness. “Hey. Please. I need to get to him.”

“Viktor, man, you know I can't—”

“Let me _out of here_!” He shakes the bars, “You can't just leave me in here when Yuuri's hurt!!! Let me out!!!”

“Shut _up_!!!” The security guard demanded, striking Viktor's knuckles with the metal rod he'd been carrying around.

The guard had to switch blocks. He got tired of watching Viktor, curled up in the corner of his cell, head in his knees, saying something.

“ _I'm sorry, Yuuri, I'm so sorry_ …”

Yuuri ended up waking in a hospital the following morning, thick, ugly stitches on his chest. He didn't want to be there. This was his own mistake. He should've pressed deeper.)

That was when Yura started reminding him, over and over again from that day forth what he was alive for.  
The baby.

Yura told him that no matter what happened to Viktor, the child would carry on his legacy.

Still, since then it's been agreed not to leave him alone, per Viktor's request.  
It could be pretty boring. Yuuri didn't do much but read, write, and eat. He ate more than either of the other two things.

His main craving was pretzels. No one bothered asking why, they only made sure to get them to him in a timely manner. 

* * *

 

Yuuri misses the days when he could climb in and out of the bathtub without any struggle, or when he could put on shoes. Or normal clothing.

Last week, he gave up on tight clothing after too long a process. He's unashamed to ask for help at this point.

He will be going to the courthouse plain-faced, for once, and the most comfortable outfit he could get his seamstress to fashion. She's here now, and probably impatient. Yuuri will give her a hefty check for this dress due to the extreme amount of fabric that was used. But first, he needs to climb out of the bathtub. That's not happening when the baby is kicking the way they are currently.

“I'm hungry too, hush,” he says, as if they hear him. He rests a hand over his stomach and closes his eyes.

_“I promise you, Yuuri, if I survive through the trial, leave that very night and go wherever your heart desires…”_

Yuuri leans his head back.

“ _I can't get very far with my current size. Try again next year.”_

“ _Ah, not even Europe, by cruise?”_

_“Not even Europe. My feet are staying in American soil.l_

_“Where do you want to have the baby at? Home?”_

_“I haven't decided yet.”_

Truthfully, Yuuri had been thinking about labor and delivery for a while now, and decided he wanted to have the baby in a hospital instead of home, because it was probably safer. However, he wanted it to be private, and he didn't want any visitors until he went home. He didn't want to feel like he was in a zoo, observed by people who found him so pitiful. Viktor would be the only one allowed in.

Maybe he'd only introduce the baby to the general public at their christening, because something about being secluded and having time to bond with his child sounded better than passing them around to visitors, giving them a higher chance of getting sick.

He wants his child to be as healthy as possible and live a long, healthy life. That's all he could ask for.

“Yuuri, we really have got to get going.” Yura says from the opposite side of the door, reminding him that he's not quite alone  

“I can't get up.” Yuuri moans pitifully. “But I don't want you to see me.”

“Cover yourself up, then.”

“I can't reach the towel.”

“Yuuri…”

“I can't help being fat!” He whines. “Just give me a minute.”

“No time. If I come in and help you, I promise I won't look.”

“...fine.”

Yura nearly trips and falls into the bathtub. His eyes are shut as he blindly feels his way across the room. He stubs his toe on the tile of the tub, and Yuuri takes the chance to reach up and grab his hands. “Just… stay steady. This tub is very slippery, like someone put butter in it.”

“And the last thing we need is you falling.”

“Heh… I've fallen quite enough this year.” He pulls himself up, eventually letting go of Yura once he's reached his towel. “Okay, you can go now.”

“What about your clothes?”

“Oh, I'm waiting on my seamstress. I think she's in the parlor.”

“Why did you ever want to be pregnant…”  
“That's none of your concern!”

“You're going to have your hands full, Yuuri. Did you ever think about how you're going to manage a newborn alone? It's going to be a nightmare.”

“It’s not like I can go back now.” Yuuri shifts uncomfortably, hunching his shoulders. “Maybe I shouldn’t go…”

Yura accidentally opens his eyes. “Are you insane?”

“Out!” He pushes the teen out of the bathroom, slamming the door shut.  
“Get ready!”  
“I’m not going! Everyone’s going to see how fat I am and laugh at me!”  
“Yuuri Katsuki, I swear to God... I’d hate to see the look on Viktor’s face when he’s released and you aren’t there to greet him.”

* * *

 

“What have you made for me this time, Minako?” Yuuri folds his arms across his chest as he steps into the parlor in only his robe.

“I think you'll like this one.” He hadn't seen Minako in a while before ordering this outfit; since the night before the murder. He missed her, but had no real use for her up until now since the only thing he commonly wore was a very loose, long shirt.

“It looks… tight.” Yuuri's looks down at himself. “A-are you sure it will fit?”

“I'm positive, Yuuri. We're focusing in on your stomach on this one, to show those damn prosecutors what idiots they are to put your Viktor in jail. And if you don't like that, I've fashioned a black shawl to go overtop. Now, come here and put this thing on.”

~~~

“You're nervous, Yuuri…” Minako zips the back of the maroon colored gown she's dressed Yuuri in. “Focus on your breathing.”

“I have been.” Yuuri takes the scissors from off the vanity, smoothing out his hair. It's pulled back into a ponytail. “I've been really needing a cut. What do you think?”

“After Viktor gets released. I want to give you a little braid—” _snip_. “Well then.”

“I like to express femininity…” Yuuri runs a comb through his now-short hair— “but the masculinity is still there. I don't want people to forget that.”

“You're beautiful, regardless.”

He smiles at her through the mirror. “I- I think I'm ready now.”

“Good luck, kid.” She's taken aback by Yuuri turning around and hugging her as tightly as he could.  
“I'm going to give you the biggest check you'll ever receive.”

* * *

 

“What a full house for a trial…”

“Everyone’s here to pity Yuuri.” Comes another whisper. “Look at the poor thing.”

Yuuri is accompanied by Yuri Plisetsky when they arrive at the courthouse on September 27th, 1922. People are staring. A few reporters crowd around, trying to get some answers out of Yuuri. Since it’s been several months since the murder, (several months of desperate investigations that got nowhere), the story has had plenty of time to spread across the country. But he stays steady, eyes focused on the doors in front of them. “I'm going to remain perfectly calm today.”  
~~~  
“Why the _hell_ don't I get to make a statement?! I am just as much a witness as those men!” Yuuri shouts at a very tired, very bored looking attorney preparing his final claims in the front of the crowded courtroom.

“Calm down…”

“Don't tell me to calm down! This is Viktor's life we're talking about, and I want him to be safe! Let me tell the court what I know.”

“You testifying will only sway the jury in your direction out of pity, but that'll soon vanish once everyone else testifies. It's pointless, Yuuri. You’re biased, you'd do anything to save him, so no one would believe anything you say. Go take a seat, it's starting soon.”

“I was there…” He tries to protest, “I saw more than those men did. Why can’t I-”

“Look…” He closes his briefcase. “We don’t let… people like _you_ testify unless absolutely necessary. And it isn’t. So have a seat.”

Yuuri opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. _People like me_? He's enraged, and can't show it. So he smiles and walks to his seat. It's the most uncomfortable arrangement he's ever been in. On his right, Yuri Plisetsky. On his left, Otabek Altin. But the worst part is, several of Otabek’s siblings are sitting in the back of the courtroom, right along with Viktor's ex-wife— Feltsman’s daughter. Why did she have to come? She hated her father.

“Look behind you, but be subtle…” Yuuri nudges Yura, tilting his head back slightly. “See anyone you recognize?”

“That Feltsman girl?”

“I don't know her name.”

“It's Moira.”

“Hmm. Is she married again?”

“Yes, but her husband isn't here today. She came alone.”

“How's she dressed?”

“Plainly, but professional.”

“You look way better.” Chris adds from behind him. “Don't look at her.”

“Viktor's had sex with her, of course I'm going to look.” Yuuri mumbles. “I have to make sure I'm… better. Is she pretty? Thin? Both?”

“She's quite slim.” Yura replies. “Kinda pretty. But again. Plain.”

“Well, she's slim, and that's something I'm not.”

“You're carrying. There's a difference.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Yuuri takes what looks to be a handful of pills out of the bag at his feet. “I'm done.”

“Don't kill yourself!” Georgi cries.

“What? This is hard candy. There's more stuff in the bag, help yourselves.”

“Shit, I'm starving.” Yura reaches into Yuuri's bag, fishing out some more hard candy.

Yuuri can't help but smile.

“Hey, Yuuri,” Otabek speaks up from beside him. “I want to talk to you. Afterwards. Well, it's not just me, my sisters are demanding that they—”

“Okay.” Yuuri nods. “I've got something for them.”

Awkward silence.

“How are you doing, anyway?” Otabek looks incredibly awkward as he asks this. “The baby too, of course…” He corrects himself with a blush rising to his cheeks.

“I’ve- we’ve been fine.” Yuuri stares ahead. “Thank you. And yourself?”

“I graduated in early summer, and I’ve just started my first semester at George Washington University.”

“The _only_ school your father didn’t want you going to.” Yuuri recalls. “He had some disagreement with the dean of the school, right?”

“Yeah, but I got in anyway.”

“Good. It’s nice to stay close to home.”

They don’t talk anymore after that.  
~~~

Viktor's brought into the room soon after, but he doesn't look Yuuri's way, and Yuuri knows better than to stare. His heart is aching, though.

“He looks sick…” Yuuri whispers to no one in particular. “I-I should've visited him more…”

“Yuuri…” Georgi gives him a sympathetic look. “You don't have to do this.”

“I need to be here. I–” He stands up abruptly. “I have to talk to him.” Yuuri walks forward several rows, and leans over the gate to speak to him. “Viktor, I need to talk to you. Now.”

“Court’s about to start.” Viktor says numbly without so much as turning his head.

“It’s important.” Yuuri touches his shoulder, shocked upon Viktor flinching. “Listen,”

“We can’t be doing this. Yuuri…”

“If you don’t survive, what do you want to name the baby?”

“Of all things, you ask me this?” Viktor sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe… after you.”

“That's what I thought, and that's not happening.” Yuuri smiles, kissing his ear. “Good luck out there.”

“Order in the court.”

* * *

  
According to Viktor, he spent the entire night wasted and doesn’t remember much of it. He just knows that he and Yuuri spent a lot of time in the lounge, and that the butler wouldn’t let anyone leave. He recalls the woman at the door being shot, but states he couldn’t have done that due to him carrying Yuuri out of the lounge, where Feltsman was freshly injured. On the maid and cook, he claims to know nothing. Perhaps he’s lying?  
He also adds that Yakov secretly didn't approve he and his ex wife’s divorce without notifying him, as well as he and Yuuri's marriage and tries for adoption.

Yuuri longs to be up there and tell his side of the story, but he hasn’t been called, and he probably won’t…

Chris says that the night was filled with nothing but sex, alcohol, and murder. Yuuri blushes up to his ears, praying he won't bring up he and Viktor and their shenanigans in the lounge. Fortunately, he doesn't. He says that Yakov was acting strangely from the beginning of the night, and that the butler specifically told him to watch out, his past might catch up to him tonight.

Georgi tells the court about Yuuri's poisoned tea, and how very dead he was looking. “His skin was pale, turning blue, and his pulse was faint. Had Viktor not have induced Yuuri's vomiting, we don't think he would've woken up.”

“And this is the tea you all claim Mr. Feltsman drank to fake his death?”

“Yes sir.”

JJ tells everyone about how Yuuri swore up and down Yakov was killed by a gunshot; but they found him with a bashed in head and the gunshot wound was artificial. He later adds that pages from books regarding gunshots were ripped out to sell the story. He also says that even though Viktor was an asshole, and they fought over the tea scenario, that Viktor couldn't possibly have killed Yakov, being that he was rimming Yuuri in the lounge that whole time.

_Really?!?_

_I'm going to crawl under a rock and die…_

Viktor’s lawyer looks less than pleased when Yuuri is called to testify.

Yuuri smiles weakly at his friends as he goes to the chair, ignoring the whispers he hears from those attending the jury. He does, however, look straight back at Feltsman’s daughter, who is rather pretty. Her heart must not have been. She’s scowling at him.

“Would you say that Viktor and Mr. Feltsman had an unfriendly relationship with each other?” The prosecutor asks after a moment.  
Yuuri glances at Viktor, then sighs. “Yes. Mr. Feltsman was frequently unhappy with Viktor’s life decisions and made that… clear. He stole a valuable item from our house, even. We found it the night of the murder while looking for evidence.” He lifts his hand, showing the ring glistening on his finger. “All because he hated Viktor.”

“And hated you?”

Yuuri laughs softly, “Oh, sir, _everyone_ hates me.”

“And why would that be?” The man leans on the table.

“Because I once had an affair and I'm more attractive than most people. There, I said it. I never committed a crime against Feltsman, though.”

_Why are people laughing?_

“Order in the court,” The judge rasps.

“Anyway, Yuuri,” he collects himself, “Several witnesses have said you were conducting most of the investigation on the night of the murder.”

“I was.”

“Could it possibly have been to give Viktor Nikiforov time to hide evidence?”

“Absolutely not.” He says without missing a beat, “I had no idea who the murderer was. I was sick most of the night, you see, for obvious reasons. But…” _Now everyone’s going to think you’re crazy_. “I wanted to be the one to solve it. I didn't trust the butler, because he made all sorts of accusations at me. He-he said I was going to be charged in the death of my late husband, when it was ruled a suicide two years ago.”

“Is that case open?”

“Sir,” Yuuri rests his chin in his hand, “he weighed over two hundred pounds, and I can barely lift thirty. He hung himself, left a note in his own hand explaining why he did it, because he was out of money. Yes, it is closed.”

Otabek makes a funny noise from his place on the bench, his face turning this awful pale color. But he doesn't move.

“I see,” the prosecutor rests his hands in front of Yuuri. “Have you ever known Viktor to be a violent or aggressive person? Has he ever lashed out at you or another person when angry?”

“No, I've always found Viktor to be very patient and even tempered. When upset, he usually walks away.”

“And you're confident he wasn't the killer of Mr. Feltsman, correct?”

“Without a doubt.”

“But what about the other three victims?”

“The person at the door, impossible. He was carrying me at the time, both hands occupied. The second and third…” he decides to stretch the truth, “he was with me. Asleep. Never had those weapons on him. Viktor Nikiforov wouldn't just kill two innocents, let alone anyone. It's just not him.”

“You know,” the interrogator winks, “can I get your number after this? I bet you're fun at parties.” He says sarcastically.

“Order in the court!”

 ~~~

After what seemed like the longest trial in history, through hours of interrogations (all of which were matching in their descriptions and stories), and the displayal of weapons found in the house, the results finally are declared, and Yuuri feels ready to faint. The course of his life— and his child’s— is about to be changed….

**“At this time, we find Viktor Nikiforov not guilty due to _inconclusive evidence_. Should any further evidence against Nikiforov come forth, we will schedule a retrial.”**

Yuuri exhales; he doesn't notice that Yura is hugging him, Chris has a hand on his shoulder, Georgi’s looking right at him— everyone's cheering, giddy, talking at the same time, and Yuuri just… his mind is only directed towards one person right now.

He doesn't stop running until he reaches Viktor and is in his arms again.

They're safe. And he doesn't care about who really killed Feltsman, the maid, the cook, or the singing telegram person at the door. It can remain unsolved for all he cares. He _doesn't_ care.

* * *

  
The next morning, Yuuri feels like the nightmare of the past four months never happened. Birds chirp outside his window, wind rustles through the trees, and snuggled into his side, Viktor sleeps peacefully with his arm around Yuuri. The baby's kicking just below Viktor's hand, and he wonders if it'll actually wake him up, because Viktor needs to get up.

It's time to show him something outside.

Eventually, Viktor's eyes flutter open and he stays still for quite some time. He probably believed he was going to wake up in his prison cell once again, and taking in the sight of his old bedroom, bed, and Yuuri beside him seems to be quite a shock. He's staring right up at Yuuri, but he hasn't said a word.

“What are you staring at, Viktor?” Yuuri instinctively leans in for a kiss, happy when it's received.

“It's just… I'm so glad to be home.” He responds in his beautiful sleepy voice. “I just want to lay in bed with you all day and forget anything before now ever happened.”

“Hmmm…” Yuuri kisses him again. _Maybe I shouldn't show him_ …. “Well, we can do that, but I have to pee, and… there's something I need to show you first.”

_It's now or never._  
  


~~~  
“I didn't know how to tell you, or if I even should.” Yuuri grips onto Viktor’s hand in front of the small garden in the back corner of their yard after a silent walk. The flowers are wilting in the early fall, and it's too chilly out for his liking. “I was ashamed. I thought you'd find me useless and push me away.”

“Oh, Yuuri, I would never think that. Even if you weren't pregnant now, I would still love you. Your fertility doesn't determine my love for you.” Viktor already knows what they're looking at, but he wants Yuuri to confirm it before he…

“This is where I buried our babies.” Comes the quiet confirmation. Viktor feels like his heart got a hole punched into it, but he stays strong for now, for Yuuri's sake.

Yuuri pinches his lips together, squeezing his hand tighter upon receiving no response. “This would've hurt you terribly. I had to hide it… I just wanted to make you happy.”

“I _am_ happy.” Viktor kisses his cheek, kneeling in front of the flower bed. “I just wish you'd have trusted me enough to tell me.” He looks up at him. “I know… we didn't know each other very long before we got married. You weren't comfortable with me. You thought marriage was only about pleasing your husband, and not about getting pleasure yourself. That's partly my fault. I should've shown you… given you the chance to express yourself and really decide if you wanted to marry me before trapping you in like this…” he motions to his rounding stomach.

“You didn't trap me in. We both wanted this.” Yuuri sits beside him, heart fluttering from his nerves kicking in. “I think I wasn't ready two years ago, but as of recent, it wasn't just my loneliness that fueled this want. The idea of spending my life with you, raising children we made together… I was obsessed with it. And it wore out my body. I don't know if I'll have any more after this one, but I want to enjoy every moment of it with you.”

Viktor smiles at him weakly, then traces his finger across the petals of one of the wilting flowers in front of him. “Do you think we’ll make good parents?”

“The best.” Yuuri says. “These babies who didn't make it, we would've been good parents to them too. I just… I don't know _why_ they didn't make it, and this one has so far. What's wrong with my body?”

“Nothing’s wrong with you, sweetheart, you're perfect.” Viktor assures him, “Something just went wrong with their development. It wasn't your fault at all.”

“Really?” Yuuri didn't seem skeptical of Viktor's words at all, rather, he clung to them like a lifeline. His face brightened.

“Absolutely. You never deserved to get blamed for anything that's happened to you. The marriages, their deaths… everything. You're innocent.”

“I'm not quite innocent..” he replies, “After all, I’m the one who caused all this.”

“Caused what, love?”

“Feltsman’s death. The maid’s death. The cook’s death.”

“Yuuri…”

“It's okay. I acknowledge it. I move on.”

“Yuuri.”

“Yes?”

“How far along were they?”

Yuuri looks out at the garden, as if he's remembering the very day each miscarriage occurred, each time he had to come out to the garden, each... “The first one was really small. Hardly distinguishable.” Viktor could tell this was hard for him to say, “th-the second, was a bit farther along. I could tell it was a boy.” His eyes flick down to his hands, which are a little shaky. “I'm sorry…”

“What are you sorry for?” Viktor asks, stroking the top of his hand. “It's not your fault.”

“I- I might not have another boy. You want a son, don't you?”

“Do I want a son?” He repeats. “I want a child, I don't care about the gender. Son, or daughter, I'll be equally as happy. And I'm the one that should be sorry. Being so oblivious when you were in so much pain.”

Yuuri sniffs, shrugging. “Viktor… why did you take the blame for the murder, knowing you could've been killed?”

“To protect you and the baby. I needed to prove myself worthy of you, and show how sorry I am.”

“Then I need to show you how sorry _I_ am for not doing more to get you out of that situation. For hiding everything.”

Viktor quickly shakes his head. “Yuuri, this isn't about my prison stay. You were _in pain_ before that and I ignored you. I deserved what I got. You could've died from those miscarriages.”

Yuuri stands, pushing on Viktor's shoulder for support. He starts walking back towards the house in silence.

Viktor follows immediately. “A-Are you angry with me, love? I'm sorry, I should've— where are you going??”  
“Inside.” Yuuri clenches his fist.  
“Why? Did I say something wrong?” Viktor reaches for his hand. “Yuuriiiii…”  
“I can’t kiss you out here. Someone’s probably watching and they’ll think I’m… oh, fuck it.” Yuuri pulls him close, snaking his arms around Viktor’s neck. “I don’t really fucking care what people think of me anymore. Let them hate me.”

“I certainly don’t hate you.” Viktor leans in for the kiss, waiting for Yuuri to meet him halfway.

“You’re too skinny, Viktor. You need exercise and a whole lot of food.” Yuuri rests his forehead against Viktor’s. “I don’t hate you either.”

“You think you might eventually fall in love with me? I know I never gave you much of a choice before… but-”  
“I have always been in love with you. Even though you’re stubborn, and do stupid stuff like saving my life and giving me the world, I…” He softly presses a kiss to Viktor’s lips. “I’ve already forgiven you for the past, but that’s the past, and I want to start the future with you… now.” Another gentle kiss, lasting a little longer than before. “Don’t you want that too, Viktor? Do you love me?”

“Of course I love you.” Viktor smiles, wrapping his arms around Yuuri. “Want me to show you?”

“I, uh, I think that's going to have to wait a few more weeks….”

“You're so dirty minded, darling,” Viktor pouts, lacing their fingers together, “I was going to take you maternity shopping in Manhattan so you could stop wearing my tee shirts every day instead of clothing.”

“You know about that?”

“I'm not blind, Yuuri.”

“W-well, maybe I don't want to go shopping for clothes… everything's uncomfortable.”

“Fine, fine. What about for the baby, then?”

“Viktor, no…” his face falls. “You always do this.”  
“Do what?”

“Take me shopping instead of just spending time with me,” he begins to appear flustered, “and I know what you're going to say, ‘shopping is spending time with you’, but it isn't. You're distracted, you won't be looking at me, you won't _listen to me_.”

“Anything I suggest doing you turn down.” Viktor says pointedly.

“I'm nearly seven months pregnant, what can I do?” Yuuri covers his face. “You know what? I'm sorry. I'm ruining this.”

“You have been rather moody lately,” Viktor lifts his hands when Yuuri looks ready to punch him, “but it's okay! I understand why. How about we go upstairs and take a bath, and then we can go back to bed or eat a nice breakfast? Or if you're sore, I can give you a massage.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes, dragging Viktor back into the house. He hides a smile.  
~~~  
“Yura says I was a pill to live with,” Yuuri says almost two hours later, clad in only his robe while Viktor rests his head against Yuuri's stomach. “And I know it's true.”

“I'm not saying anything about that. You're wonderful.” Viktor smiles up at him. “Maybe a little crabby, but– ow!”

Yuuri gently runs his fingers through Viktor's thinning hair, staring up at the ceiling innocently. “I was so lonely without you.”

“Our weeks apart were hell, Yuuri. Every night I wished I could come home to you…”

“I was lonelier before you left. I didn't have any friends or anyone to talk to.” He sighs, “And now it seems like everyone wants to talk to me.”

“Everyone, being?”

“The townspeople have brought over baby gifts twice, no, three times this week alone, Vitya. I haven't gone through them yet. And, and your aunt from Rhode Island sent money instead of gifts, and now….” he makes a displeased face.

“What?”

“I've wrote my family, so what if my mother wants to come and help?”

“Oh dear lord…”

“I don't know how to say no!” Yuuri laughs softly, “What will she possibly do to help, nag me? Send our kid off to get married before they're toilet trained?”

Viktor laughs, eyes sparkling. God, he's so cute… Yuuri wants to lay here with him forever. But there's just one last thing on his mind, and then he can forgive and forget.

“Viktor, have you ever cheated on me before? Please tell me the truth.”

“No. I've never cheated on you.”

Yuuri stops playing with his hair. “Then why does everyone always gossip about your scandalous affairs every night? What am I doing wrong?”

Viktor sits up, giving him a pitiful look. “You think you've done something wrong in our marriage?”

“Well… yeah. If I can't satisfy you, I must be.”

Viktor cups his cheeks, and he won't look away. “Who did I marry?”

“Me?”

“And who did I promise the world to, Yuuri? I haven't successfully given it to that person, so I've got to keep trying. Why would I think about anyone else?”

“You have given me the world,” Yuuri says, wrapping his arms around Viktor's neck, “and it's right here.” He closes the gap between them, and finally, all is right again in his world. “Just… please don't ever leave me again.”

Quite honestly, they're both content with staying in this exact position for the rest of the day. 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“That damn Yuuri knows too much,” the servant girl whispered to her friend, shortly after Yuuri busted himself out of the basement (when he'd been faking tears to investigate and ended up finding the body). “If we don't divert the attention, Master Feltsman’s plan will be ruined, and we won't get our portion of the money.”

“I think he's naive,” the cook replied, glancing back towards the stairs. “I really don't believe he'll figure anything out. But I want him to, I want him to just bust Yakov’s ass for the bullshit he's put us through. I'm tired of being touched— ahh…” the cook’s face suddenly went blank. It didn't take long for her to drop to the ground. It was all so fast….

And behind her, was her master.

“If you want to survive too, young lady, I'd suggest doing as I say,” Yakov said in a cranky tone. He'd just woken up. “I can't be seen, so you have to do the work for me.”

“Sa— Sar—”

“Shut up,” he barked. “There's an undercover investigator coming to arrest me for fraudulence in my business and they'll be here any time now. When they do arrive, you are to shoot them dead with this revolver. Is that clear?”

“B-But sir—”

“If you don't obey, I will hang you and everyone else in this goddamn house. Understood?”

“Understood.” She bowed her head. “I hope you hang for this.”

He smiled. “We'll see which of us do.”

___

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooo
> 
> 1\. Spotify playlist is in progress if you ever want to know what music I listen to when writing, just search "Scarlett; Lounge;Candlestick" on Spotify (username altred12025, and you can see my playlist (it's a work in progress tbfh and in no particular order), and I'll let you all know when it's officially done! 
> 
> 2\. What do you think the baby's name should be?
> 
> 3\. I fractured my ankle and college starts back up on Tuesday, so I might be a little slow in updating, but I'm always active on Instagram/Tumblr, so hmu if you have any questions/suggestions/need to scream about something! 
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> Reddy


	11. Chapter Ten: The Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Historic snowfall, unplowed roads and unfriendly travel companions. The perfect time to have a baby, huh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll notice this chapter is mostly dialogue. Probably more dialogue than in the entire story. Wow, everyone's talking. ENJOY AND MAKE SURE TO COMMENT BABS

"Breakfast?" The maid chimes cheerfully as she enters Yuuri's bedroom just past eight on an early December morning.    
  
Yuuri moans, covering his face with his hands. "Nothing big. Just... pretzels. And... maybe like... like take the pretzels and cover them in chocolate. That'd be nice for today."   
  
"Contractions again, sir?"   
  
"Mmhm... every six minutes."    
  
"Oh... I don't imagine you're feeling very well right now."   
  
"I feel like absolute shit. Don't open the curtains and let me sleep. But bring pretzels. And the chocolate covered ones. Thanks."   
  
Lilia smiles. "Once your little one comes out you'll feel much better. Sleep while you can, though."   
  
"I've hardly been able to..." Yuuri whines.    
  
"It's true. We're open for suggestions," Viktor exits his closet, adjusting his tie. "You're excused, Lilia."   
  
Viktor sits on the side of the bed, smiling weakly at him. "Hey there,"    
  
"Don't ask how I'm feeling cause it's not better."   
  
"You poor thing," Viktor coos. "How are those contractions?"   
  
"Consistent. I think– I think we need to go to the hospital today, before the storm hits."   
  
"But you aren't in labor yet, Yuuri... we could end up being there far longer than we planned."   
  
"But what if I go into labor during the storm? Then we wouldn't make it to the hospital."    
  
"Alright." Viktor sighs, "I'm going to go ahead and go to work. The storm isn't coming until about five pm. If you feel like your contractions are getting stronger by noon, I will come home and get you, and we'll go to the hospital then. Sound good?"   
  
"O-Okay."    
  
"I'll see you later." Viktor cups his cheeks, kissing him softly. "Get some rest. I love you."   
  
"I'll be calling by noon," Yuuri hugs him. "I'm going to go pack."

* * *

“Nikiforov speaking,”

“Good morning, Viktor,” Yuuri says cheerfully, “remember that little conversation we had earlier?”

“The one about you not needing to go to the hospital yet, and waiting until after twelve?”

“That's the one.” He replies. 

“So what's the issue?”

“We just got a delivery of those crib sheets we ordered last month? And guess what? They got the color and the size wrong! It's  _ orange _ , Viktor. Orange! And we ordered  _ blue _ ! I mean, how do you mess that up? And then there's the size. It'll fit our bed, I think. It's far too big.” He groans, “What do you suppose we do?”

“Well, until we can get that sorted out, we can—”

“It was custom made, Viktor. It'll take at least another six weeks! And any other color just won't match the theme of the nursery…”

“Honey, we can just have the baby sleep in our bed at night and their bassinet during the day. Relax.”

“I just want everything to be perfect, and I can't rest until it is.”

“How can we fix the problem, Yuuri? What can I do?” 

“I'm glad you asked. Could you  _ please  _ call the business yourself? You're closer by anyway, and they'd probably be more likely to listen to you. See if they can fix this quickly…” 

“Absolutely. I'll get to it as soon as I can. I'm just a little swamped in work today, and I have a meeting in twenty minutes, so—”

“Viktor, Viktor I'm about to freak out.”

“What?”

“The blanket for the bassinet and the blanket for the crib are two slightly different shades of blue, making everything look off! Oh god… I can't…”

“Yuuri. Listen to me,” Viktor chuckles, “our baby won't care about a different shade of blue or an orange sheet. You've got to calm down about these little things, at least until I get off work. Okay? I'll call you later.”

“Okay. But you'll call the company, won't you?”

“Of course. Goodbye, Yuuri.”

Viktor hangs up his phone, exasperated. He stares at the photo of Yuuri on his desk for a long moment before leaving the room. “Michele. Get that lovely bedding company from downtown on the phone and notify them that they've messed up an order to the Nikiforovs. I'm off to my meeting, so I'm not taking any calls.”

“What? Why do you need  _ me  _ to call them? Isn't that something Yuuri should be doing?”

“Do you want to keep your job?” Viktor snaps, shortly before slamming the meeting room door shut. 

Michele exhales. “Which one of you is pregnant?”

~~~

“Viktor’s not answering, sir. What shall I do?”

“Hah…. did you call the main office or—”

“The main office  _ and  _ Viktor's private extension, and his apprentice’s. Nothing, sir.”

Yuuri rests a hand on his face. “I'm in labor, a snowstorm is coming and my husband isn't answering his phone. What else could go wrong?”

“Let's get you to the hospital then, and one of us will keep calling him until he answers.”

“I'll drive myself,” Yuuri decides, “Can you go get my things from upstairs? I'm already packed.”

“Drive  _ yourself _ ? Really?! Have you gone mad—”

“I'm fine. The baby isn't coming yet, and I don’t want any of you with me.”

~~~

“Thank you for understanding,” Viktor finishes the meeting late(it was boring, but very important), had to go to another meeting down the road afterwards, all the while getting far too many interruptions from his secretary about an urgent caller. It is now half past four and the sun is gone.

And by then, it's already started snowing. They’re calling for a foot and a half before the day is over.

“What was so important, Michele? Was Yuuri upset about the drape colors again, because honestly, we went over this weeks ago and I don't care.”

“No sir, it was a personal servant calling. Some… Minami or something. Said Yuuri left the house alone to go ahead to the hospital when you wouldn't answer your telephone. He's out there in the storm.”

“ _ What?!” _

“I- I called the hospital, every hospital around here, and he’s not there. So, either he’s turned around, or he is stranded.”

“Did you call the police?” Viktor’s face is a strange pale color, eyes wide. In all his time of working under Viktor, he’d never seen his boss look stressed, worried— okay, this was way worse than “worried”—

“They aren’t answering. All we can do is wait, and keep calling.”

~~~

Yuuri hugs himself tighter, continuing down the road, dusted with snow atop a thin sheet of ice from the sleet that's gone through shortly before. He's aching, everywhere, chilled to the bone in this wind… and he has to keep looking back, making sure he can still see his car. 

He wore the wrong shoes for this. Nearly every other step, he's slipping, forced to grip onto a nearby tree for dear life. If his car wasn't stuck in a damn ditch, he could've been at the hospital by now. And because he isn't, he'll probably die during childbirth, and the baby will die too. 

Great. 

_ I should go back to the car…  _

Yuuri turns back. He’s done this six times now since becoming stranded.

_ I can have the baby in the car, at least. Or I can try to get the car out of that ditch. Or… _

Just as he starts walking back to his car, he has to stop— pain shooting through his body, and—

He feels a sudden gush and knows he's screwed. 

* * *

“I just feel like I’ve run into way too much trouble recently and some ghost is out to get me,” Otabek says to Phichit on a long and very cold walk down a secluded road in search of a home to stay the night at since their vehicle broke down. Record temperatures were expected to be descended to that night, just three weeks until Christmas. He can barely feel his toes; they’ve been walking for what feels like hours. They could’ve gone back to the car, but it had two flat tires and was buried in snow. It wasn’t happening.

Far, far down the empty road, they could see a faint light flickering in the snow, a sign to them that they surely must be approaching someone’s home. It’s so dark out, for a moment they think it must be a star, or if they’re lucky, a fire. Regardless, Otabek breaks into a run, the cold wind slicing his face and sucking breaths out of his lungs. His throat burns by the time he reaches the light, which isn’t a home at all, but rather another seemingly broken down car. He has to wipe the heavy snow and ice from his face to see clearly. This one isn’t abandoned though, and the driver doesn’t seem very interested in fixing the problem. 

Otabek knocks on the window, wiping at the glass to see inside clearer. “Well, I’ll be damned… your car too? And what are you doing out here so late by yourself? Wait.  _ Yuuri _ ?” 

“P-please…” Yuuri says faintly, kicking open the door. “I need help.” His lips are blue, his teeth are chattering, and the front of his clothes seem to be stained with something, but it’s too dark to see.

“What’s going on?” Phichit finally reached the car, shocked when he saw the driver. “What is it? Why are you out here alone on a night like this?!” 

“My water broke....” Yuuri’s voice shakes as he turns to the men. “This car is stuck in the snow and I- I can’t drive like this… I’ve got nothing to deliver the baby with a-and it’s s-so c-cold out here…”

“How long have you been out here?” Otabek crouches down to examine the tires. They  _ are  _ stuck, but perhaps the snow can be shoveled away… they’d have to hurry, though.

“I’ve been stuck for hours. My water broke about an hour or two ago. I-I tried walking to find help, but the snow got so heavy, and-” Yeah, Yuuri’s not even wearing a coat, just a light jacket. Someone didn’t expect a snowstorm… “I’m so sorry to burden you with this.”

“You could have died out here had we not found you.” Otabek scolds, motioning for Yuuri to move out of the way so he can start the car. “Viktor must be worried sick. Why were you out here all alone?”

“I was angry with him,” Yuuri flinches, clutching his stomach, “Ah… hah…” The men give him a moment to compose himself. “I asked him earlier to take me to the hospital, because I felt like today was the- ahhh- day, and he told me I’d have to wait, that he was swarmed in work… I should’ve stayed home instead of trying to go by myself.”

“Yuuri Nikiforov, you’re insane. You’re also the luckiest person alive.” He turns to Phichit. “We’ve got to get this thing moving, or we’ll die too. Let’s shovel out the tires and go before another heavy snowfall starts.”

Yuuri is helped into the backseat of the car, and instructed to lay down, covered in both men’s suit-jackets (because they couldn’t remove their winter coats, they’re not idiots), and he doesn’t protest one bit. 

Otabek’s just glad he decided to wear gloves. 

He frantically shovels the snow from underneath the car and around the wheels with his friend’s help, scraping and pushing at the icy mess until his fingers nearly bleed, then eventually goes to the trunk and pushes with all his might while Phichit attempts to steer back onto the road. The snow is only a few inches deep on the main road due to the snow drifting onto the side of it, but by the looks of the sky, another storm is coming and soon…

“Hallelujah, we’re moving!” Phichit exclaims, honking the horn. “Get your ass in here, Altin, cause in this slippery ice we aren’t stopping till we get to Manhattan!”

The ride was silent for a while as the car slowly trudged through the snow. Thankfully, they were now only about two miles from a busier street with semi-plowed roads, but still miles from the hospital.

And it felt like an eternity when the men in the front seat noticed Yuuri crying. Some of it was in pain, they assumed, but the rest was probably fear.

Phichit tilted his head towards the back seat. “Otabek. Go back there with him.”

“What? And do what?” He hisses. “I’m not a doctor.”

“I’m not either, but…” Phichit sighs. “I know how terrified he must feel right now. We shouldn’t allow him to go through this alone.”

“Then you do it. I’ll drive.” 

Within a minute, Phichit climbed into the backseat and sat beside Yuuri, who… yeah, doesn’t look any better. 

“Yuuri… you need to relax.”

He laughs. “Who’s the one who’s about to have a fucking baby, me or you? So don’t tell me what I need to do if you have no experience with it!!”

“Who says I don’t have any experience?” Phichit forces a small smile. “If I tell you something, will you promise to keep it a secret?” He glances at the front seat. “Otabek, cover your ears.”

“Not listening anyway.” comes the reply.

Phichit shakes his head, leaning back in his seat. “We’re alike, you and me. I have two kids.”

“A-A lot of people have kids.” Yuuri leans his head against the window. “Fathers are just as common as-”

“No, their father doesn’t come around anymore. I’ve been on my own since before my second was born.” He turns to Yuuri. “Do you understand what I’m trying to say? I get what you’re going through. Being alone at a time like this… it’s frightening. I get it. And having someone with you can make all the difference.” 

“I...I want-”   
“Viktor to be with you, I know. And if we can find him, he will be there. Till then, you’ve got me, your most despised acquaintance.”

“This isn’t how I imagined the birth of my child to go at all.” Yuuri actually chuckles. “You know I’ve been planning this day since I was like, fourteen years old? None of the scenarios I came up with were ever similar to this. Fucking hell…”

“Well, you lived in Atlanta back then, right? So yeah, those ideas wouldn’t be similar now.” 

“Yes, but i’ve updated them over the years to match my situation. Especially with Viktor… we’ve been counting down the days…” here comes the tears again… “He is so excited to be a father… why didn’t I just stay  _ home _ …”

“I wish my boyfriend shared that enthusiasm,” he replies wryly.

“This isn’t about you!” Yuuri whines. “This was supposed to be  _ my  _ day.”

“Spoiled little thing, isn’t he?”

* * *

 

“What do you mean he isn’t back yet? Where the  _ hell  _ is my Yuuri?!” Viktor cries when he finally gets the phone of his office to work- he's been stranded there with Yura all this time. 

“It’s been hours, and he-”

“Oh my god… he could be trapped out there! I’ve got to go out and find him! Yura, you’re coming with me!” Viktor hangs up the phone. “I don't know where he could be, but we need to find him. I’m tired of waiting.”

“We can't go out there in this storm. That'd be crazy. You have to wait until it clears.”

“He could be having my baby right now, out in this storm— freezing to death…” Viktor slips on his coat and gloves. “I have to find him.”

“And  _ how  _ will you find him, Viktor!? Odds are he's stranded on some backroad and isn't even anywhere near here! There's nothing we can do.” His cousin replies, yanking Viktor by the arm. “You'll kill yourself going out there.”

“Put your coat on, Yura. We're going out there.”

“No we're  _ not _ .” 

“Fine. I'm going alone then.” 

“Alone? Idiot.”

Viktor scowls, “That's my kid and my husband out there in that storm. You really think I'm going to just sit here calmly with that thought in my mind??”

“Fine, damn it! But you better rent a sleigh, because we’ll never get through that mess!”

* * *

“Alright, Yuuri, focus on your breathing…” 

“Yeah, not happening.”

They are  _ just outside  _ Manhattan now, but the road in front of them was blocked by snow, and unless someone had a nice pair of snowshoes, there was no way they could get Yuuri through, since walking the rest of the way seemed out of the question. 

“Alright, then how about something to distract you? Tell us a story.”

“You don't want to hear anything I say…” Yuuri fights through another contraction, gripping onto his own jacket to prevent a cry. 

Phichit offers him his hand. “If it'll distract you from the pain, tell me anything you want.”

* * *

 

_ When I was born, my family might’ve known two other people like me. I was rare, and that put them, and me, in danger. There are far too many bad people out there. _

_ People like me would be taken from their homes before adulthood and forced to breed like rabbits until they eventually died before they reached their twenty-fifth birthday, almost always during childbirth.  _

_ To scare me out of revealing my true self, my mother used to tell me stories about what would happen to those people’s babies. She said that if they were different, they would be kept alive, thrown into an orphanage, maybe, and if they were like everyone else, the “doctor” of the house would slit its throat and leave it to die out in the cold. _

_ Mom said that up to thirty people would live in one small house, with only two or three men living there; the rest being daily visitors looking for sex. She told me I must always hide myself as a child, so I wasn’t allowed to go to school or go play at a friend’s house because I was to be wary of their older brothers or fathers. I spent my days alone.  _

_ We weren’t always that poor, but when I reached my teen years, Dad lost all his money and they got desperate. I never thought my mom and dad would sell me off to those awful men they’d always warned me of, but they did. _

_ I guess I got lucky, though. The man who first married me was the owner of one of those homes, but he did not live there. He was always out working, and he warned me to never leave a door or window unlocked, to stay in the cellar as much as possible during the day and try not to make any noise. We lived far too close to… to where the rest of the people like me were kept, and I was never safe. _

_ My husband may have prevented me from being sent to one of those Godforsaken homes, but that didn’t mean I was happy. He paid so little attention to me that I stopped believing I was a person, but rather just a mindless being whose only purpose was to serve and obey.  _

_ I think he got bored of me, because within six months, he left me to get back with his ex wife. He offered me a spot in his whore-house, saying there’d just been an opening. Yeah, I saw that fresh grave. _

_ I went off on my own with the little bit of money I had and traveled to New Orleans. I lived as a man, I had a job at a hospital where I’d help take care of babies. I would sleep in a storage closet there because I was too afraid to go outside at night.  _

_ I woke up one day to the door being thrown open. Beyond startled, I looked up to see a patient with a wrapped arm. I didn’t know he was going to be my next husband, and the first thing he said to me was, “Can I hide here too?” _

_ Three weeks later we were married. _

_ He was busy a lot; he worked at a military base nearby and made me go with him. I had to take the alias of a woman, hiding any trace of masculinity. I worked in this little infirmary and was always being flirted with or grabbed by a sick or drunk soldier, but I tried to ignore them.  _

_ When the war got bad, he went away to fight. The last thing he said to me was, “Don’t forget about me while I’m gone, girl.” _

_ I told him I wasn’t a girl, he laughed and pat the top of my head. I had feelings for him, but he didn’t feel the same way about me. _

_ He died overseas. _

_ I met Otabek’s father at the funeral. Grieving, I wasn’t in the right state of mind, but I remember fighting the marriage he was offering. It still happened, and I was shipped up to Washington to live with him and his children. Every time I spoke, he looked annoyed, angry, even. He once told me I shouldn’t talk around him, it gave him a headache. He was abusive, the worst of it when he was drunk and grieving over his wife. I had a lot of grief, too, but he didn’t want to hear about it.  _

_ When he found out I’d been cheating on him with Viktor, he threatened to kill me, he nearly shot me, and at that moment I wished he did. Sometimes I still think that. Viktor tries to talk me out of it, but I can’t help but feel at times that the world would be better off if I wasn’t in it. I think a lot of people would agree.  _

_ I don’t want to tell any more of this story. _

* * *

 

 

They've now been at a standstill for two hours, and the snow hasn't lightened up one bit. Everyone’s freezing, huddled together to keep warm, but it isn’t helping much. It’s hopeless...

“I think our only option is for me to go out and find help.” Otabek says between shivers. 

“I'm not sure there’s time…”

“I have to try. We're not far from the city, and this car isn't budging.” He gives Yuuri a weak smile. “Hold on as long as you can. I'll be right back.”

“I-I'll try…”

Otabek knew it was a mistake to go out in the snow— he can barely see in front of him and no one seems to be around. He probably won’t find anyone, and he doesn’t really care. He needed a minute to himself to think about Yuuri’s story, and how much better his life would’ve been if Yuuri had never been born. He thinks Yuuri feels the same way, too. 

Maybe this storm will put him out of his misery.

He stops a quarter mile up the road. There’s no use going on. He won’t find anyone. Yuuri will die, the baby will die, hell,  _ they’ll all die _ . 

God has a weird way of designing fate, though.

No more than a minute after he’d stopped, he hears the clattering of hoofs across the snow-covered road, a large cart behind it with a lantern attached… 

_ A sleigh.  _

He can’t help but think how convenient it is, that God must’ve sent these people just moments ago to find them.

But what he doesn’t know is that Viktor and Yura have been searching every backroad they’ve found from Yuuri’s home to New York City and are bickering about their next move right up until they see the buried car. 

Viktor jumps out of the sleigh before even bothering to stop it.

Otabek smiles, whispering a thank you.

“Yuuri…” Viktor’s voice is tight. He wastes no time in lifting Yuuri out of the car. Yuuri leans against him, body trembling from the cold and eyes shut as Viktor trudges through the snow. “Are you alright? What were you thinking? Never mind what you were thinking, I’m just glad you’re alive.”

Viktor is less than happy at the sight of Phichit, but he doesn’t deny his help in lifting Yuuri into the sleigh. They’re all off in no time.

God didn’t want them to die afterall, Otabek supposes.

“Hey, Viktor,” Yuuri whispers during a silent moment once they’ve reached the city. The lights surrounding them are beautiful, he can hardly tear his eyes away. “I told you that you should’ve listened to me. My water broke hours ago. Never doubt me again.”

“Okay, but you should’ve stayed home and you know that. Never doubt  _ me  _ again.”

~~~

“How are you feeling?” Viktor’s voice is the first thing Yuuri heard when he wakes up from his nap that he wasn’t aware he took. Only now, he's in a warm bed, wearing different clothes and under several thin, scratchy blankets. This is quite different from the sleigh-ride he’d taken.

“Where am I?” Yuuri mumbles, forcing his eyes open. The room is dark, the curtains are shut and the lights are off. “What time is it?”

“It's just past two now. You've been out for a while.” Viktor adjusts the blanket over Yuuri, stroking his cheek along the way. “You're in the hospital, of course.”

“I didn't have the baby yet? Damn it. I was hoping the hard part was over.”

“Looks like baby isn't interested in coming out.” 

“I wouldn't be too certain. Just because I feel okay right this second doesn't mean they're not planning a surprise appearance.”

“Hm. True. It would be nice if we could get some sleep before then, though.”

“And? Um… Viktor… I'm afraid of the delivery because they'll kick you out of the room… a-and I really don't want a bunch of strangers in here.”

“They tried kicking me out earlier, making me wait in that waiting area. I said I'd offer every staff member working with you fifteen hundred dollars if they let me stay. And they didn't refuse.”

“You're such an idiot, and I love you for it.” Yuuri smiles weakly. “I'm going back to sleep now. Bye.”

_ Everything’s going to be okay now. _

Viktor smiles back. “Bye…”

After Yuuri's back to sleep, Viktor decides to unpack Yuuri's bags, then find some place to sleep for as long as he's able. That turns out to be another hour, because by then, Yuuri announces quite suddenly that it is time for the baby to come out. 

~~~

The experience makes Viktor debate whether or not he should’ve waited outside. He’s shocked at the look on Yuuri’s face, about how much pain a human can be in and somehow manage to stay conscious and recover.

He feels selfish, worthless, even. What can he do other than grip Yuuri’s hand? Why is he here? He’s just in the way. Yuuri shouldn’t have to go through this pain. This is Viktor’s fault, after all. So why can’t Viktor bear the pain for him? Why isn’t there some way of lessening it?

Oh, he’s going to be sick.

And one more thing is killing him: the fear in Yuuri’s eyes. Everyone heard stories of young people who died of childbirth, due to complications or illnesses… and Yuuri had been outside for so long the night before… 

The next few moments go by without Viktor being aware of any of it. He feels as if he’d stepped out of reality, that time had paused, and he was all alone. All he knows is he’s standing by the bed, gripping its railing as tightly as he can to prevent himself from falling. His ears are ringing and his head is spinning… he’s about to faint… 

And then, a sudden sound breaks the silence surrounding him and changes everything.

A baby’s cry.

_ Oh, my God… _

Viktor believes the scene before him is so beautiful that it belongs in the greatest art gallery known to man. More beautiful than the birth of Christ, he thinks, though others may disagree. 

The bright glow of the lamp overhead illuminates the scene; there’s Yuuri, who’s never looked more relieved in his life, tears trickling down his rosy cheeks, intertwining with sweat from the struggle. Here he is, body exposed in front of all of these individuals, and yet they treat him with the respect he deserves, congratulating him on his accomplishment. Doctors and nurses with masks covering their faces lift the baby, cutting its cord and then wrapping it in a towel. Viktor can’t hear what they’re saying, or anything other than the cry for that matter. He just watches.   
Yuuri presses his pale lips to the skin of their newly delivered baby who shares the same dark, thick hair. His hands are shaking, but he’s alright. 

And the most beautiful sight of all is the way Yuuri looks up at Viktor, a genuine, relieved smile on his face.  _ It’s gonna be okay,  _ his face reads, but instead, he says, “It’s a boy.”

* * *

“I feel like an icicle thawing.” Yura says in the guest area of the nursery ward, pacing back and forth across the floor. They've only been here for a few hours, after far too long out in that terrible storm. “I'm so glad Yuuri and the baby are here, though. I'm glad you found them.”

“Me too. It was… an interesting evening. I learned a lot about him. And… maybe he's not as bad as I thought.”

“Yeah? I learned that too.” Yura smiles at him for a long moment, face flushing with heat.

Neither know what to say or where to look or even what’s happening. 

Thankfully, the awkward moment passes when Viktor bursts into the room! “There you are! Everyone’s doing well, come see the baby!” Viktor ushers them towards the nursery, “Yuuri's finally resting, thank God.”

“How big was the baby?” Yura asks, eyes shifting uncomfortably from Otabek to the ugly wallpaper of the hallway.

“When we got him weighed, he was nine pounds and twelve ounces. They say he could have been over ten if we hit the due date.”

“Dear God…” Otabek flinches. 

“He's twenty one inches, and it looks like he's got blue eyes, but that hair is black as night. He's adorable!” Viktor gushes, stopping in front of a large nursery window. Several other fathers puffing big cigars are standing nearby, looking at their own accomplishments. Some smile, others just stare blankly.  “Bet you can't guess which one he is.”

“The fat one with the black hair; it's gotta be.” Yura squints through the glass, face lighting up with a rare smile (in Viktor's opinion). “He is cute… for a little piglet.”

“What's his name?” Otabek glances from Viktor to the pale baby. “After the night we had, I’d name him Iceberg.”

“Yuuri wanted him named after me.”

“So you've got a junior? How nice.” Yura makes a face. “What will you really call him?”

“Oh, he’s not a junior. We came to an agreement on his name earlier. His name is actually Nikolas, even though Yuuri fought me because I thought two “Nik’s” in his full name would annoy him.”

“Why did you fight over the name? I think it sounds fine, reminds me of my grandpa.” Yura peers through the glass again, adding, “As long as you didn’t name him  _ after  _ my grandfather.”

“Well, Yuuri’s angry because the baby’s full name is Nikolas Katsuki-Nikiforov. I made sure to add his name too.”

“So if we call him Niky-Niki will you hate me?”    
“If you call my son Niky-Niki I will fire you.” 

“Okay, one Nik it is.” 

“Can we see Yuuri?” Otabek chimes in. “Later, when he's better and rested, of course.”

“I don't see why not…” Viktor feels like he's forgetting something, but he can't recall. 

* * *

“Yuuuuri,” it’s past noon now,  and Yuuri has just woken up for the second time since the delivery. After he fell asleep again at around seven, the nurses took the baby to the nursery, but now that he was awake, he demanded him back at his side. 

Viktor didn't mind that part. “He's beautiful. You did so well!”

“Shhh…” Yuuri chides, “he's asleep.”

“Oops. Sorry..” he sits on the side of Yuuri's bed to get a better look at the baby. “He looks more like you. I love it.”

“Well, he certainly doesn't have your hair,” Yuuri shrugs, “That could change. But his skin is much fairer than mine. I think he leans towards your awfully sensitive skin, dear.”

“The sun just hates me.”

“I'm sure it does.” He hides a smile. “Have the others gone home?”

“No, they're still here. They want to see you.” 

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I look horrendous, that's why! They can't see me like this.”

“Well, they want to see  _ you _ , so—”

“Viktorrrr, we talked about this!” He whines. “I don't want anyone in here with me. But since you've deliberately ignored my requests, I guess I don't have a choice. Get my things, I'll clean myself up. Give me an hour.”

Viktor repeated Yuuri's requests to his visitors, and just over an hour later, Yuuri sat himself down in bed and allowed whoever was out there to come back in. 

To his surprise, it's just Otabek and Yura . Otabek is clutching a big, stuffed brown bear at his side, looking a little bit uncomfortable. 

“Well, you're still alive,” Yura says in his most annoyed of tones, but he's smiling, and he hugs Yuuri right away. “How are you?”

“I'm quite sore,” he hugs back, “but I'm okay. How about you? Hope you got to warm up.”

“I'm fine. I'm more concerned about you.”

“It wasn't too bad till the delivery. He was a lot bigger of a baby than I planned for. My mother said I was born small, maybe six pounds. And Viktor was seven and a half. But almost ten pounds? Really?”

“Yikes… bet you'll enjoy some rest here, huh?”

“I really just want to be home, honestly. But that snow says otherwise.”

“Yeah. I'm eager to get home to my sisters too.” Otabek rests the bear next to the bed. 

“Do you all have plans for the holidays?” Yuuri looks up at him. “Viktor and I are thinking of throwing a party, our first at the house.”

“Yeah? I'm sure your family will be glad to meet the baby.”

Viktor and Yuuri exchange glances. “Well, we were hoping you and your sisters would come too.”

“Us? Oh, I can't intrude like that,”

“You'd be our guests, how is that intruding?” Viktor says. “We have guest bedrooms. You can stay with us, or we'll pay for hotel rooms. It's up to you.”

“Really? Thank you, sir. I'll consider it.”

Their conversation is interrupted by what seems to be a kitten mewing. But surely, there aren't any kittens —in this ward at least— as this is where babies are born. Yura turns his attention to the source of the noise; that fat, freakin’ cute little newborn. 

“I'm going to be his uncle.” Yura declares suddenly, scooping up the baby without so much as permission from the parents. “Fuck that first cousin, once removed bullshit. I'm not being cousins with a baby. He needs an uncle and that's what I'm going to be, and damn it, you're adorable, Nikolas Katsuforov.”

“Katsuforov?” Yuuri repeats. “What does that mean?”

“Katsuki-Nikiforov would take way too long to say. He's Katsuforov now, born of the two most annoying people I know with a much shorter last name than you idiots made.”

“I don't question him,” Otabek says, “and you shouldn't either. It's easier to just go with it.” 

Viktor grins at the group. “Katsuforov? Hey Yuuri, maybe we should change our last names to—”

“Don't even think about it.”

* * *

“Oh, look at you! Aren't you precious!?” Yuuri squeals, holding the baby in front of the mirror in his bedroom. The infant’s expression is unreadable, but if he could talk, he might ask,  _ Why are you dressing me up like I'm going to meet the President?  _ “Just wait until everyone sees you, you're going to steal the show tonight.”

The baby looks up at him, blue eyes sparkling, and forms the smallest of smiles. It's moments like this where he looks just like Viktor.

Yuuri can hardly handle it. “Now, let's see if I can put you down long enough to get ready myself.” He tries to do so… and fails within seconds. The baby shrieks, kicking his legs the moment he's lowered into the cradle by Yuuri's bed. 

“Never mind then. Want to rest? Let's rest.” Yuuri eases onto the bed, sighing softly. “You're lucky I love you so much, darling. But I'm tired, and if you don't go to sleep right away, I might have to give you to your father.” He closes his eyes. “If only he'd hurry and finish getting ready.”

“Did someone call for me?” Viktor calls from the door, adjusting the collar of his dress shirt. “You go get dressed, love. I'll put him down for a nap.”

“I'm the one that needs to be put down for a nap…” Yuuri strips from his pajamas that he'd somehow been wearing all day. “I'm excited for the party, but the baby was up all night and…”

“I tried to help you…”

“Yeah? You can't feed him, and besides, he didn't want you anyway. I'm his favorite.” 

Viktor's face falls as he gazes down at the infant. “Nikolas… you don't hate me, do you? I was there for all— most, aha,  _ most _ of your time before birth, and I've been here every day since!”

“And who's gone from nine until five at night, five days a week, and who stays with the baby during those hours, Viktor?” Comes a witty remark from Yuuri's closet. “We can always switch. Whenever you want…”

~~~

Yuuri rests a hand against his vanity, making the final few adjustments to the gown he's wearing to tonight’s party. It's a crimson color, just like what he wore to Feltsman’s party, but a shade darker, and he's come to realize he really favors the color red. 

He would've been done earlier, but he got distracted listening to Viktor singing softly to their baby on the other side of the wall while attempting to give him a nap… 

he's wanted this for so long. Oh, this was perfect. 

“And everyone's gonna be so happy to see you, son,” Viktor says softly to the cooing baby, “the way me and Yuuri described you, I think they believe they're expecting Jesus Himself.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes, adding the last bit of color to his lips. He’s ready. 

This will be a large party, and people will be arriving soon. Viktor never properly introduced Yuuri to a majority of his family, who now were coming from afar to meet not just him, but the baby too. 

Otabek and his sisters were attending, as well as his own parents. 

So he was a little nervous. Big deal. 

“Would you look at that, son? Some guests arrived.” 

“Shit,” Yuuri whines, examining himself in the mirror, then hurrying to the bedroom, heels clattering loudly against the hardwood floor. “Viktor. How do I look? Slutty or something?”

Viktor looks him up and down, blush rising onto his cheeks. Yuuri's sure that blood is rushing to another area of his body too. “It's hard to believe you had a baby three weeks ago. You look fantastic… beautiful, stunning, gorgeous—”

“Okay, okay, that's enough.” Yuuri hugs himself. “I just hope your family likes me.”

“You don't think I'm nervous about meeting  _ your  _ parents? I'm sweating enough to stain this suit.”

Yuuri laughs softly, straightening Viktor's tie for him. “I doubt they'll even come. Just… relax, and then I can relax. And don't let anyone hold the baby without washing their hands. Please.”

~~~

The Nikiforov mansion had been silent far too long, and now it was filled with life. Candles perched at every window, it brightened up the darkness of the quiet neighborhood, and the warmth within made everything all the more splendid. 

Simply everyone attending wants to get their hands on the newest addition of the Nikiforov family (since no Katsuki seems to have decided to attend tonight). 

(Yura is still set on calling the baby Nikolas Katsuforov).

But to the Altins standing outside, the house look intimidating, its guests all too giddy, and they couldn't care less about the baby. They're here for Yuuri.

“So, do we ring the bell or go right in?” 

“I guess we ring the bell. I don't know.” 

“You've been here before, haven't you, Beka?”

“No, who says I have? I don't know what to do. Just ring it I guess.” 

“Maybe we shouldn't go in. Yuuri probably doesn't want to see us.” The youngest looks down at her party dress. “Let's go home!”

“We came all the way here. The least we can do is stop in and give them the stupid gift.” 

And yet it takes another five minutes for the four to stop arguing over who's going to ring the bell.

In the end, it's Otabek. 

A finely dressed servant answers the door, ushering them inside as if she already knew them, then disappears down a hall to get back to work. And the Altins just don't know where they should be heading. 

“We should just leave the gift on the table and then go. I don't want to stand here all night,” one of the twins complains. “You said your friend would be here, Beka!”

“He was! He probably is with the rest of the guests. Why don't you go check?”

“Check what?” Like a ghost, Yura appears on the top of the stairs. Why was he up there anyway?

“We were looking for you..” Otabek says dumbly. “Where were you?”

“I was helping Yuuri with the baby, asshole, what else would I be doing? Anyway, you're hungry, right? Come sit down and eat, the food’s incredible.”

“Would you mind taking them? I need to talk to Yuuri.”

* * *

“Ah… should I leave? I'm sorry…” He walked in on Yuuri tending to his baby, seated in the rocking chair of the brand new nursery. He makes sure not to look near Yuuri for privacy’s sake.

“No, no, you're fine.” Yuuri offers him a smile. “Have a seat. I can tell you've got something to say.”

He obeys, taking a seat on the loveseat across from Yuuri. “I don't want to bother you.”

“You're not.”

“It's just… ever since the trial I've never gotten the chance to ask you about my dad, about everything that happened. I guess I don't know the truth, and I don't know if I want it either, but… how else am I going to be at peace?”

“Peace isn't a real, permanent thing, I've found.” 

“You look pretty peaceful, Yuuri.”

“I think at moments like right now, I can say I'm at  _ ease _ . There's nothing particularly bothering me. But what defines peace? Any minute now, this baby is going to start crying. When I go to bed tonight, I know I won't get a full night of sleep. I barely have time to myself. Despite all that, I'm happy, I wanted things this way, but I'm not at peace, you know?”

“Well, I haven't been at ease or whatever since my dad died and you ran off with no explanation. So how would you deal with that? What am I supposed to tell my sisters?”

“You can start with the truth.” Yuuri purses his lips. “Yeah, I took off. But I didn't kill your father and you know that. You also know that we weren't happy together, and I would've left him regardless. Yet, that doesn't mean I didn't care about you and your siblings. I loved you all as if you were my own family.”

“Then why did you leave the way you did? We'd just found out we were orphans. A little reassurance would've been nice.”

“I know that was wrong of me. I was stupidly in love with somebody and saw my chance of freedom, so I made a selfish choice. I regret how I handled things, but I don't regret what I did. If I spent my life regretting things and doubting myself, I wouldn't get anywhere.”

“You seemed so miserable at Feltsman’s party. You hated yourself. What changed?”

“Well…” Yuuri puffs his cheeks and exhales. “Everyone hated me there! Do you know how awful it is to not be allowed to go anywhere because everyone will call you awful names and never take you seriously? I  _ was  _ miserable, and if I was around the same people I was with then, I probably still would be! You don't see Chris, Georgi, or JJ here tonight, do you? Because they weren't invited and they never will be again!”

“I thought they were Viktor's friends…”

“Yeah, they were. But you know, when you've been forced to surround yourself with shit all your life, it stinks.”

Otabek remains stoic. 

“Viktor will have to get over it! I told him it's us or his sexist friends, and he made his choice. And I can finally breathe.”

Silence.

Yuuri decides to change the subject. “Do you think two married people having sex for pleasure and not reproductive purposes is wrong?”

He looks a little startled at the question! “Well… I mean, that’s not really my business, but the whole point of marriage is to reproduce, isn’t it?”

“Right. Do you think that was your father’s intentions when he married me?” 

“Probably not.”   
  
“He already had nine kids, and I still remember the first thing he said to me on his wedding night,” Yuuri leans back in his chair, “‘If you ever get pregnant, you better have a good place to keep it, because it won’t be here.’”

“Your marriage was boring, then.”

“Eh… it wasn’t boring. It seemed like he always had a reason to be angry with me, so…” 

“You cheated on him. That brought so much shame to his name, to  _ my  _ name.” Otabek stands in front of him now, frustrated that Yuuri’s calm expression hadn’t changed. “Did you think about that, when you went out with Viktor every chance you got? Did you think about how many people saw you and him kiss in my own backyard? You might not have killed my father, but you definitely made him kill himself and for that I will never forgive you!”

“Otabek…” a pang of guilt shoots through the younger man once he realized his shouting woke up the baby. Yuuri pulls his son close to his chest, patting his back gently until his mewing had come to a stop. “I’m sorry things ended up the way they did. I don’t want you to forgive me if it isn’t in your heart.”   
  
“Damn right it’s not…”

“But aren’t you tired of hating and being angry over something that ended ages ago? If you hate me so terribly much, there’s only one way I can put your mind at ease.” 

Yuuri walks over to the cradle, presses a kiss on the baby’s head and lays him down within a few moments. He then sighs, turning to face him. “Top left drawer. That should help you.”

Otabek finds a gun in the drawer. “Yuuri, what…”

“I dishonored your family. I brought shame. I’m a bad person, a filthy, evil whore. So, do what you know you want to. Shoot me. You can tell everyone downstairs I killed myself.”   
  
“Wait, what—”

“Just make sure Viktor finds someone good to take care of our baby, and look after Yura, okay?” He slides his hands behind his back and slowly closes his eyes. “Go ahead. Give me what I deserve.”

The room is all too quiet, the only sound being the baby’s peaceful breaths, completely oblivious to what is about to happen. Otabek knows- if he really does this- it’ll hurt a lot more people than Yuuri’s stupid affair did. Viktor will be a widow with an infant, Yura would never look at him the same way again, his sisters… 

He stares at the gun for another few moments.  _ He cheated on my father. _

_ He cheated on my father and made him kill himself. _

_ He deserves to be punished. _

_... _

_ But why do I have to be the one to punish him? He never wronged me. Why do I even consider hurting him? I’m a guest in his home! My father’s been dead for years! He’s happy now! Do I really want to take this away from him just so I can feel some myth called peace? _

_ What would my mother think of this? _

Otabek jolts into attention. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought about his mother in years. She and his father loved each other, a love he’d only seen in one other situation. He remembered how bitter and heartbroken his father became after she died, and how he truly hated Yuuri, because Yuuri would never be Lucinda. Now that he thought about it, his father never spoke kindly to Yuuri- or his children- during the entirety of that marriage. Everyone was miserable, except his little sisters, who felt as if they had a mother again.

Otabek never really thought about how miserable and lonely Yuuri must’ve been, either. He knew what that felt like now.

The gun drops to the floor.

Otabek wraps his arms around Yuuri, hugging him for the first time. “ _ I’m so sorry… _ ”

He tells Yuuri everything.

* * *

 

“He’s finally back to sleep,” Viktor whispers late that night, long after the party had ended. It’s technically Christmas now, and his birthday. Yuuri loves sharing a room with him now, he loves hearing his voice and never being alone at night. He loves having someone to talk to. 

“Good,” Yuuri rolls over to face his husband. “I said he didn’t like you earlier. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I knew the truth.” Viktor grins triumphantly. The baby’s sleeping on his arm after a long struggle and four diaper changes. “Maybe now we can get some rest.” 

Yuuri smiles. He leans in and kisses Viktor’s cheek. “That’s never sounded more romantic.”

Sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, Yuuri thinks he sees a ghost at their bedroom door. Of course, he’s never been one to believe in ghosts and usually assumed it was a servant. But everyone is at their own home tonight and the only people in the house are Viktor, Yuuri, and the baby. So who does he keep seeing pace the hallways? Is he going mad?   
  


“Viktor, are you asleep?”   
  
“Yes.”

“I know who killed Mr. Feltsman now. And I think we’ve got an unsettled ghost because that person isn’t behind bars.”

Viktor cracks one eye open, glancing in the direction of the door. “Yeah? Well fuck you Yakov Feltsman! Go suck Satan’s dick because I don’t give a shit who killed you.” What's the point of arguing with that? Yuuri's just glad Viktor's alive and well, and that the night of the murder is nothing but a faint memory that has no relevance to his life anymore.

Still, Yuuri sees that shadow pacing his halls, peering in his windows and doors every now and then. But if Viktor doesn’t mind it, he won’t either. He doesn’t think Otabek deserves to go to jail for killing Feltsman and all the other ruckus he caused, (even though stealing his car was pretty shitty), and he decides it’s a secret he’ll take to his grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So literally, I have been debating the whole baby situation since day 1. Originally, they had twins, a boy and girl, then I changed it to both boys, then it was a girl, and finally just a boy. And don't even get me started on the name situation! But Niky-Niki is here to stay, guys.
> 
> Secondly, this was actually ALL going to be part of the last chapter, but that'd have been waaaay too long (this is my longest chapter, actually), but I figured it was time for some happiness and stuff all by itself.
> 
> And we've still got an epilogue! Look out for an announcement at the end of that chapter, though, because there's a possible continuation in the near future...........


	12. Afterward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years later, much has changed. So much happens that, well... if Yura were to tell you all of it, that would require another book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is narrated by Yuri Plisetsky.

 

_Afterward_

* * *

 

“Has anyone seen Viktor?” Yuuri came hurrying downstairs on the morning of May 20th, 1927, still in his pajamas and long, sleek black hair unpinned down past his shoulders. It was rare for any of the servants to see him looking anything but _regal_ , so they knew something wasn’t quite right.

Another thing that seemed off is that everyone knew Viktor left for work at about eight thirty every morning, and it was now nine. Wouldn’t he already have left? Oh dear, one of the maids thought, do you suppose he’s lost his mind again like he did before?

“Oh, perhaps he and the master were up drinking last night, and he was suffering a hangover. How shocking, truly…”

But you’d think he’d want to have some sort of decency in front of his staff! Not today, apparently.

“Anyone?” He looked around at them. “Really? No one saw him leave. Wow.”

Just then, the baby started crying from the nursery upstairs, and he called Lilia to bring her down. “Her” being the fourteen month old newest addition to the family; recently christened Scarlett Katerina Nikiforov and Yuuri’s pride and joy after he got over those baby blues that seemingly crippled him last year.

Lilia only took a moment and we all realized that this hungover Yuuri was a doesn’t-give-a-damn Yuuri, and also a willing-to-whip-a-tit-out-in-front-of-everyone Yuuri, too. “Well, someone needs to find him. I’m worried.” He did accept when someone offered him a shawl to cover himself while nursing. Hey, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Yuuri doesn’t have much shame these days.

“And you’ve called the office?” Lilia ushered him into a chair. “When’s the last time you saw him?”

“Late last night. We got into an argument, but I know he was asleep before I was. And his car is still here!”

“We’ve been everywhere in the house today, and haven’t seen him at all.” Lilia told him. “It’s as if he vanished.”

“Well that’s just great.” Yuuri blew out a breath. “He’s upset because of the date— five years since the worst night of his life— and I’m the one at fault for suggesting we meet with the other’s for dinner this evening. He got very angry with me over it.”

“Ah… I see.” None of us really knew what to say.

“And I suppose the fact that I visited Christophe Giacometti’s house alone yesterday doesn’t help either.”

“Now why would you do a thing like that, Yuuri?” Everybody expressed their disappointment, but me, I decided he needed to be scolded.

“You know how flirtatious he is. Idiot.”

“Yura, he and his partner just had a baby last week, and I felt that it was the least I could do!” Yuuri exclaimed. “You know how fond I am of babies.”

I rolled my eyes. “And I suppose his partner and the baby weren’t home either.”

“No, they were.” He narrowed his own eyes at me as if he was a child. “It’s twins, both boys. His partner, well… he isn’t doing well. He’s not very young, you know.”

“Forty now, isn’t he?”

“I think he’s a little older than that, but I don’t know. Point is, he wasn’t ready and wasn’t able to get proper medical care.” Yuuri hugged himself. “You know how things have been recently.”

“For people like you, yeah. I know.” I don’t like talking about that bullshit. It’s dumb. But I know it bothers Yuuri, as it probably should. Doesn’t have a thing to do with me, though, does it? Beka said- oh, never mind what Beka says.

“I had to help.” Yuuri finally said. “Just like how I’m helping Phichit when he’s due.”

“Oh, so you’re a doctor now? I didn’t catch you going to med school.” I like to push his buttons, okay? Sure, I’ve just reached my twenty-something’th birthday, but I can still do this much.

“You know as well as I do that I could spend twelve years in school and not be taught a thing about the care of carrying men. It’s so rare that society would like to forget us. And they have, and we’re _dying_.”

“Yeah, you are,” Even though I’d never admit it outloud, it sure is lucky Yuuri married my stupid cousin and has a good amount of money. Most people like Yuuri who _aren’t_ wealthy never reach their twenty-fifth birthday, I’ve heard. I think he’s twenty nine now? Thirty? I don’t know. Point is, he’s lived. Lucky.

“So that’s what I’m going to keep doing, helping them, whether he likes it or not. But I am worried about him, so will some of you go outside and look for him? He’s probably sleeping in the guest house or something.”

“He better not be.” The guesthouse is informally mine. I’ve been “staying” here as a “guest” for months, sometimes leaving for a few days but always coming back, ever since the girl was born. Yuuri had a breakdown after her birth, I remember, because he was refused service at the hospital due to it being “overcrowded” and ended up having the baby literally _outside_ the fucking hospital, on the fucking _sidewalk_ because we were waiting so long. (It was overcrowded, I’ll admit. You could barely see through the waiting room).

That’s when the staff decided to let him in.

Yuuri’s shy, and anxious too. So when he got into the room and started thinking about how many people saw him spread open like he was on the sidewalk, how many people may have gawked and stared at such a scene, he shut down and wouldn’t even look at the baby.

I took care of her nearly constantly for her first few weeks. Yuuri went away with Viktor someplace down south and came back rosy-cheeked and apologetic a few weeks later.

I wasn’t completely alone in watching the kids. Otabek Altin was more than willing to help me in hopes he could win over my affections. He didn’t.

I hate to keep rejecting him, but I’m really not ready or into the idea of giving up my entire free life for a person and- blegh- settling down like he is. He just graduated from university with a shiny degree and is promised a job in Washington, but I’m not moving all the way down there for him when all my family lives north of New York. So yeah, things have been awkward and I’m glad I have been able to hide here at my cousin’s house.

Even if it’s filled with drama.

“I’ll go look for him if you want.” I finally offered once I grew tired of seeing Yuuri’s stressed face staring at me. “The idiot is probably sulking in that ugly back garden of yours.”

“Yuri Plisetsky, that’s enough.” Lilia snapped. “Go on.” Why is everyone so damn defensive of that boring, hideous garden?

Whatever.

I slipped my shoes on, nodded to Yuuri, and disappeared out the front door. It was cloudy that day, and a little too warm for my liking. I considered ignoring searching for the Idiot and jumping into the tempting water behind the house. But no, if we didn’t find Viktor soon, Yuuri would start crying, and even I wouldn’t want that.

He was right, though, about Viktor’s car still being here. Weirdo…

I walked down to their little private beach over the garden wall and gazed down at the grayish, stirring water. It was like the sea was just as unsettled as Yuuri.

I saw Viktor sitting on the dock. “Hey, you dumbass! Everyone’s looking for you!”

He didn’t even startle. “Yeah? Tell them I’m here.”

Viktor never sits by the water. He doesn’t even like the sunlight; our skin is too sensitive.

“Yuuri wants you.” I said.

“He probably will get over it.”

“The hell’s your problem?” My shoes clattered loudly as I made my way down the dock. “Go throw a fit at work, at least.”

“Do you think I’m ugly, Yura?”

The fuck? “No. You aren’t that ugly.”

“But my hair’s falling out. I can’t be seen in public. I can’t go to dinner with everyone to celebrate five years since Yakov’s death. They’re all going to see me bald and laugh.”

Sometimes I forget how much of an idiot my cousin is. Then, I’m reminded.

“You aren’t bald.”

“My hair is very thin.”

“Who cares? Wear a hat!”

“I can’t wear a hat inside!”

My family is filled with goons like him.

“Oh, Viktor, what are you doing down there? You scared me!” Yuuri suddenly shouted from behind me, children in tow.

“Yuuri, my love!” Viktor called back, breaking into a run so he could catch himself in Yuuri’s arms. “I was so ashamed of myself, my behavior and my appearance that I couldn’t face you today! I mean, why would you want to marry a bald guy like me who doesn’t let you follow your dream of helping people! I was such a grouch yesterday, and I’m sorry!”

“Oh, it’s alright!” Yuuri hugs him tightly. “I don’t care how much hair you have, darling. But I do care about helping others, so please don’t try that shit on me again! Let me help them. I won’t cheat on you with Chris, I’m all yours.”

“And you’re all mine.” Viktor pressed their foreheads together like he’d just returned from war and they hadn’t seen each other in years. All their fights end like this, and I know they won’t ever divorce. They’re the only example of true love I’ve ever seen, and they are cute together, damn it.

Viktor lifted Yuuri, causing him to shriek, and then they were kissing… I felt obliged to cover the poor children’s eyes. “You go out and help them, baby,” Viktor whispered, “you have a good heart and I need to appreciate that even more than ever! So I’ll go to the party with you! And then we’ll go to a hotel together and rekindle our love!”

“Oh, stoooop!” I begged. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever want what they have. I don’t know. They’re going to have like twenty kids by the time they’re 50, I think.

* * *

 

Otabek Altin is sensible. Georgi Popovich is sensible. Hell, even Yakov Feltsman was somewhat sensible. Everyone else is a nutcase that needs to be locked up. My opinion hasn’t changed in five years.

Tonight, all of us are gathered in Yakov’s old place to dine together. Otabek came all the way from Washington to be here, which I think is really fucking dumb of him, but I’m glad he’s here. It’s nice having someone to talk to, but unfortunately, I know why he’s really here. He wants me to go back to Washington with him! I know he’s got an engagement ring in his pocket, and it was probably really expensive, too. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.  
JJ’s here with his wife, and he and Viktor haven’t been getting along well. Chris came alone, and Georgi, too. (Georgi has a girlfriend now, finally. He’s thinking of proposing. Can people stop talking about marriage for like, five minutes!)

Yuuri also wouldn’t shut up about his kids; how Nikolas is already starting to read and he really believes that reading to your child consistently causes them to have an interest in reading younger. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but Yuuri’s so proud of how well he’s reading _himself,_ considering a decade ago he couldn’t read at all, so I’m not about to burst his bubble. He also laments on how similar his daughter looks to him and is certain she will have no luck in love or life, which Viktor is quick to refute while giving him a loving gaze. Gross!

Halfway through dinner, when I can no longer stand Otabek’s awkwardness around me, (oh, I wish he would just _ask_ already, he knows the answer!),  I excuse myself to wander around and end up bumping into Yuuri, who’s gazing at himself in a mirror in the hall. Right, he’d left the table quite some time ago to go to “the bathroom”, and yet here he is...

It kind of reminds me of the night of the murder, how I found Yuuri wandering the halls the same time I was, and...

“Oh. Hey.” I shift. “Why are you-”

“Just feeling a little nauseous.” Yuuri gives me a small smile. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I swear to God, Yuuri, if you’re pregnant _again_ , I’ll-”  
  
“I’m not pregnant.” He laughs. “I know, I know, I said that last time too. But I’m certain this time, Yura. I just… this place is kinda spooky. It’s giving me a strange feeling right now.”

“People died here. Why did you want to come?” Because Yuuri’s typical night is spent caring for his children. He’ll bathe, dress them in their nightclothes, and then sit in the big rocker in the nursery and read them something. He really just likes the excuse to practice reading, or to read from the first book Viktor ever bought him; some Grimm fairy tales collection, I think. And then, he tucks them in and goes to bed. But these types of nights, even if they’re uneventful, are what makes him happy, so…

“Oh, I don’t know. I guess I wanted to see where everyone’s gone in life.”

“You think you’ve done well?” I look at myself in the mirror. “Two kids and a fortune isn’t half bad, eh?”

“Yeah.” Yuuri pinches his lips together. “I’ve got what I’ve always wanted. I’m happy; something I wasn’t five years ago. Things… things have been going really well for our family, don’t you think? I’m eager for the future.” Those are words I never thought I’d hear Yuuri say. I’m happy for him, I’ll admit that. It’s just…

“Not for me.” I sigh. “I’ve been rejecting the same person’s dumb proposals for a year and a half now and he just won’t get it through his head.”

“That’s got to be awkward.” Yuuri pats my shoulder, looking as if he’s going to turn away. I think I heard Viktor say that they’d be leaving a bit early… “Just follow your heart, okay?”

“Like you did?”

He blushes, looking away. “Yes. Like I did.”

“Alright. Maybe I’ll… do that.” Even though that sounds terrifying and I’m not sure I’m nearly as brave as Yuuri. Childbirth even scares me less than marriage!

“Good. I hope you find what you’re looking for.” I don’t know why neither of us moved. Maybe Yuuri was overwhelmed with the same feeling of dread that I was, but I’ll never know. All I do know is that our eyes met; his brown ones wide though nothing had happened yet. I suddenly realized just how silent the house was…  
His mouth just started to form my name when-

_Bang._

A gunshot erupted from someplace in the house. Yuuri and I both jump, startled, and then sigh loudly.

Oh, here we go again!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Red!" You glare at your screen. "When you said we were getting an epilogue, this is not what I wanted at all!" 
> 
> "I know that," say I, "but I couldn't find the perfect way to END a fic that isn't ENDING."
> 
> "What?" You tilt your head to the side. "What do you mean by that?"
> 
> "Why, there will be a continuation, of course, attached to this fic! There may even be three!" I smile at you. "The first is to be about Yuuri's life in the late twenties, giving you much further detail into his life and his children's characters, and the second may be about Otabek and Yuri, and the third is a silly little Halloween special! What's even better is that you won't have to wait that long. One of the three will be here soon!"
> 
> Tears are in your eyes and you shake your head at me. "Do you think I'm emotionally ready for a REAL continuation of a fic so emotionally damaging?"
> 
> "No, my child," I pat your head, "and I am not either. Please don't hate me. Look out for the Halloween special within the next 2-3 weeks, loves!"
> 
> ~~~~  
> So while this is the "END" it isn't really the end, as I have several one shots coming! The reason behind this is that there's simply too much left to say. Too much. Too. Much. If you hate this afterward part, please ignore it. I intentionally didn't make it a satisfying epilogue, as Yuuri and Yuri's one shots will be that much more satisfying now when the time comes, and I couldn't shift too far from the mystery theme in this particular story.
> 
> Thank you SO SO SO much for sticking with me all these months, for commenting, (which I always crave), and for giving me likes. This is the first YOI fic that I have actually completed. I appreciate the support and kind words, and please stick around for more content in the near future!
> 
> A special thanks to a certain fan on Instagram who inspired me, to Nerd, to Andi, to everyone in the Discord group who have helped me through this mess. THANK YOU! You're the reason I keep writing!
> 
> (oh btw regardless of continuations Vik+Yuu live happily ever after :) )

**Author's Note:**

> Just so we're clear— for those who don't know the Clue Game characters:
> 
> Yuuri is Miss Scarlett— the red chick. During a certain clue era, Miss Scarlett was Asian, and I honestly wonder if anyone else has ever heard of that version.  
> Viktor is Mr. Green— the only known homosexual character exclusive to the Clue movie. That character is pretty uggo in nearly every incarnation, but Viktor is gorgeous.  
> Georgi Popovich is Professor Plum—my daddy since I first played Clue.  
> Yuri Plisetsky is Mrs. White— now, hear me out. I know in the newest Clue game, Mrs. White isn't in it at all and is replaced by a Ms. Orchid, and Yuri isn't a grandma, but I'm sticking with the traditional game.  
> JJ Leroy is Mrs. Peacock (:D) which is going to be hilarious, honestly.  
> And Christophe Giacometti is Col. Mustard. I hate that guy sm 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!


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